


Home for the Holidays

by Kittenshift17



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Dragons, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family Drama, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2019-10-09 02:45:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17398523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittenshift17/pseuds/Kittenshift17
Summary: There's nothing like coming home for the holidays. For Hermione, having Charlie home for the holidays this year might just be the perfect time for her to finally make her move on the handsome Dragon Tamer. But, as with any family, drama is lurking just around the corner. Hermione just has to figure out if it'll make or break her chances at becoming the future Mrs Charles Weasley.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't resist a little Charmione novella for the 2018 holiday season. I hope you like it. I've been having a lot of fun writing this one. It's almost complete in draft, so I'm hoping for some daily updates over the next couple of days until it's completely posted (you say, "Yaaaay!"). Happy Holidays and a very Happy New Year, everyone. I hope 2018 was good to you.
> 
> xx-Kitten.

The kitchen door of the Burrow blasted open with a bang, a gust of blizzarding wind tearing through the warm house in an instant to reveal a strapping, hooded figure stomping the snow from his boots on the step. The adults inhabiting the kitchen of the Weasley family home all trained their wands surreptitiously on the figure in their surprise before the sound of a gleeful shout rent the air.

"UNCLE CHARLIE!" Victoire Weasley and Teddy Lupin both shouted in delight, the pair of them barreling toward the wizard as he stepped out of the cold and into the warm kitchen.

Charlie Weasley looked up, grinning. His hood fell back to reveal his gleaming red hair and freckled face just in time for the two children to crash into him. He stooped to pick both of them up, holding each child with one arm and lifting them from the ground despite their being eight and nine years old and hardly small enough for being carried around with ease.

"Happy Christmas, you pair of little blighters!" Charlie crowed to the children as they both cuddled into his embrace.

"Oh, Charlie, you're home!" Molly Weasley said happily, bustling over to her son intent on stealing the next hug from him just as soon as he'd finished cuddling the boisterous children.

Hermione Granger tucked her wand back into her pocket quickly, the temperature in the room spiking at least twenty degrees as she laid eyes on Charles Weasley. When no one else complained of suddenly being incredibly warm, she began to suspect the temperature spike might be localized to her knickers.

Galloping Gargoyles, but the man was a delight to the senses!

"Go on, now," Charlie was saying to the children after hugging them both. "Off with you and play. You'll get your presents later, yeah?"

"You got us presents?" Teddy asked excitedly, bouncing up and down as his hair wildly shifted through the colors of the rainbow in his excitement.

"What do you take me for, kid? Some heathen? Of course, there's a few presents tucked away in these pockets of mine for my favourite pair of rascals."

Teddy and Victoire both began to cheer and dance happily, shuffled out of the way as they were by Molly when she moved in to hug her second son.

"Howdy, Mum," Charlie said, his easy smile seeming to light up the room. "Happy Christmas, yeah?"

"Happy Christmas, darling. Oh, it was getting so late, I'd begun to worry," Molly fussed, hugging the man close before pulling back to peer into his face.

"Yeah, got a bit stuck coming through Customs, you know?" Charlie shrugged easily, not at all concerned by the late hour or the time it had taken to get himself home for the holidays.

Hermione looked on from across the room where she'd been fixing herself a drink while the rest of Charlie's family coming forward to wrap him into back-slapping brotherly hugs, following stern handshakes for all. She waited patiently, drinking in the sight of him and trying to keep from having anyone spot the fact that she was beginning to squirm in her rapidly dampening knickers. Merlin, but the Dragon Tamer got handsomer with age, she was sure.

"Ickle Ronniekins," Charlie smirked when Ron strolled in and shook his elder brother's hand.

Hermione stayed quiet in the corner.

"Still calling me that, Charlie Bear?" Ron smiled good-naturedly, not at all rising to the bait of the childhood nickname his siblings have given him.

"Always will, little brother. How've you been?" Charlie grinned though Hermione noticed the way his wild eyes bounced from Ron to Fred, to George, to her, then to his mother and then over to the hulking figure of a wizard just entering the kitchen.

"Good," Ron nodded. "I've been really good, Charlie. And you?"

"Living the high life, my friend," Charlie shrugged his muscled shoulders, beginning to wriggle out of his cloak when the warmth of the kitchen began to heat his chilled form.

Hermione bit her lip as he stripped down to only his jeans, dragon-hide books, and what looked like last year's Christmas sweater from his mother. It was green with a Chinese Fireball knitted on the front of it.

"Hey, listen, there's someone I want you to meet, Charlie. You know, officially," Ron said a little awkwardly when Fred and George exchanged grins and obviously wanted to pounce on their elder brother with questions about his 'high life'.

"Oh, yeah?" Charlie asked, and Hermione noticed the way his eyes darted to her in the corner again.

When he caught her watching him, he shot her a crooked grin and a shrug, making her think he had every intention of coming over to give her a hug just as soon as Ron sorted himself out. Hermione smiled gently in return before lifting her glass of wine to her lips and sipping.

"Yeah," Ron said, looking over his shoulder as a hulking wizard approached him from behind. "This is Greg. Greg, this is my brother Charlie."

"Goyle?" Charlie asked, surprising the lot of them that he knew who it was.

"That's me," Goyle nodded, his head. "Nice to officially meet you."

He held out his hand for Charlie to shake and Hermione held her breath, wondering if Charlie would make the connection yet that he was being introduced to Ron's boyfriend.

"Uh, you too, mate," Charlie said, looking slightly confused but doing the polite thing and shaking Goyle's hand just the same.

"Blimey, what a lot of fuss," Fred rolled his eyes when the handshake ended, and Ron stood their awkwardly, obviously at a loss of what to say next. Hermione could tell he'd been expecting to have to fight with Charlie as he'd fought with Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Fred, and George when he'd introduced Goyle to them as his latest love interest.

"Right," Charlie chuckled. "I think I need a drink, yeah?"

Ron frowned at his brother, but he didn't say anything as Charlie moved past him.

"Hullo, Hermione," Charlie said as he moved around his brothers and crossed the kitchen toward her.

"Hi, Charlie," Hermione said, hating that her voice came out huskier than she'd intended.

Before she could worry about blushing or trying to clear her throat, Charlie stooped a little and curled his arms around her waist, lifting her right off her feet and into a bone-crushing hug. She smiled against his shoulder, burrowing her face into his neck and breathing him in as she hugged him back. He smelled of smoke, and the outdoors, and of dragons. Hermione closed her eyes, reveling in the feel of his strong arms around her, holding her a foot off the floor with apparent ease.

"Happy Christmas, yeah?" he said when he let her down a minute later – much too soon for her liking.

"And to you," she smiled, her eyes dancing over his freckled face and drinking in the wicked little grin he shot her before he looked over his shoulder when George nudged him and handed him a glass of eggnog.

They didn't exchange any further small-talk before Charlie was swept away by his family into the living room, but the warmth of his body and the tingle of his touch after having been pressed against her so intimately for just a minute had left Hermione flushed and hungry for more.

Merlin, she needed to get her crush on the man under control. He'd never looked at her sideways, from what she could tell. He'd always thought of her as Ron's friend, and then Ron's girlfriend, and she didn't think he would ever think of her as anything other than a friend of the family. The last thing she needed was to make an arse of herself by attempting to flirt with the man or too obviously lusting after him.

She topped up her wine glass before strolling into the living room where Charlie had been pushed into an armchair by the fire – no doubt by his mother who was fussing over him having been out in the blizzard raging beyond the safety of the Burrow that chilly Christmas Eve. Already, Teddy and Victoire had claimed Charlie's lap as the perfect spot for them to sit and listen to him regale them all with tales of why he'd been late.

Hermione leaned her shoulder against the arched doorway between the living room and the kitchen, looking on greedily as he bounced his niece on his knee.

"What kept you?" Arthur asked of his son, pulling his wife down to sit on the couch when she kept trying to fuss with Charlie's hair and worrying that he wasn't warm enough.

"A few of the dragons wanted to share their holiday cheer with me," Charlie shrugged his shoulders. "Had a pair of Ironbellies giving us some grief just before I was set to head out, and we had to get the fight broken up and the wounds patched over before I could get away."

"Were you hurt, darling?" Molly frowned.

Charlie shook his head. "Nah, I'm alright, Mum," he said, but from the way he didn't meet the woman's gaze, Hermione could tell he was lying.

"What were they fighting about, Uncle Charlie?" Victoire asked, wriggling on his lap and completely enraptured by her uncle's tale.

"Just a squabble over territory, Vic," Charlie shrugged. "They're pretty fierce, those Ironbellies, and they don't like sharing their turf. The weather over there isn't much better than it is here, and one of the younger drakes thought he'd hole up in a cave on the mountainside to avoid the worst of it, see? Only the cave was already occupied by a big old mean drake we call Krampus. He's not real friendly, old Krampus, and he wasn't too keen on some young bloke invading his cave. They got into it pretty bad, but the young gun held his own."

"Did you have to wrestle them, Uncle Charlie?" Teddy asked, hanging on Charlie's every word.

Charlie grinned.

"I usually try to stay away from old Krampus," he admitted. "He was a people-eater, back in the day when he was first relocated to the Sanctuary. He was picked up near Mykolaiv in the Ukraine after he'd been destroying villages and eating all the muggles who lived there."

"Does he bite?" Victoire asked.

Charlie laughed.

"They're dragons, Vic," he smiled patiently. "They all bite."

"Oh," the little girl said, frowning.

"Anyway, old Krampus hasn't given us much grief since we got him sorted out about fifteen years ago, but I wasn't real keen on getting too close to the bloke, eh?" Charlie shook his head. "'Course, when he got the young gun in his jaws and started trying to chew his head off, me and the lads had to get involved."

"You wrestled him?" Teddy asked excitedly.

"Yeah, buddy," Charlie grinned. "He nearly had me, too, old Krampus. Thought he'd be clever and play dead when the young gun kicked him in the head. I pounced on him to restrain him before he could fight back, and the sod almost ate me!"

The children weren't the only ones engaged in the story and Hermione chuckled to herself when a few of the adults gasped in concern for Charlie, too.

"How did you get away?" Teddy wanted to know.

"I'm pretty quick, buddy," Charlie grinned. "I threw myself down right on top of his snout and clung onto one of the horns growing out the top of his head for dear life. You can't bite your own nose, see? You try it."

Hermione giggled when Teddy and Victoire both stuck their lower jaws out, tipping their heads and trying to bite their own noses. She shook her head when she noticed Ron trying it, too.

"Oi!" Ron exclaimed when Goyle leaned over and bit the tip of Ron's nose instead.

Everyone looked over and began to laugh when Goyle pulled back, looking smug.

"Gotcha," he taunted his boyfriend while Ron rubbed the end of his nose, laughing.

"See? Can't get it by yourself, can you?" Charlie chuckled. "One of the safest places to grab hold of a dragon is on his head because he can't bite you from so close. But you've got to be quick, otherwise he'll chomp you right up before you get hold of him."

Teddy and Victoire nodded seriously, obviously appreciating and absorbing the lesson in dragon wrestling. Hermione shook her head once more, smiling to herself as she watched the Dragon Tamer entertain and educate the two young children with no small amount of cluckiness. She was certain her ovaries might burst the longer the looked on, unable to keep from daydreaming of how he might one day look with a son or daughter with her curls and his coloring balanced on his knee or cradled in his arms.

"Who's hungry?" Molly asked sometime later after Charlie finished his story of how they'd subdued the fighting dragons, supposedly unscathed.

"I'm starving," Ron announced, and Hermione giggled when Goyle looked like he could eat an entire feast all to himself, as well. She didn't envy the pair of them their grocery bill, that was certain.

When everyone bustled their way into the kitchen to be seated around the hugely extended dining table – expanded to fit the spouses of the numerous Weasley offspring – Hermione found herself shuffled a little further along from her usual spot. She pressed her legs together under the table when Charlie rested a hand on her shoulder as he lowered himself into the seat beside her. She noticed as he did so that the move was just a little strained, and she began to suspect that though he wasn't walking with a limp, he'd done something to one, or both of his legs during his dragon-fight before coming home.

"You mind if I sit by you, Hermione?" Charlie asked even as he settled himself into his seat.

"Not at all," Hermione smiled, just a little breathless in his presence.

Charlie shot her a wink, releasing her shoulder as he was drawn into conversation with Bill when the eldest Weasley son claimed the seat on Charlie's other side. Leaning back in her own chair on Bill's far side, Fleur made eye contact with Hermione before crossing both her eyes as Charlie and Bill launched into discussion about their professions. Hermione laughed quietly, the half-veela Frenchwoman having grown on her in the eight years since Victoire's birth and following the close living quarters they'd shared when she, Harry and Ron had escaped to Shell Cottage during the war.

She wasn't surprised when the twins sat opposite them. Charlie didn't get home too often, so when he managed it, everyone wanted a chance to catch up with him. She felt almost bad that he'd chosen to sit beside her when so many of his siblings wanted the chance to talk to him, too. Not bad enough to move, of course. She wasn't about to give up such prime real estate when she'd had her eye on Charlie for what felt like years, now.

Ever since she and Ron had come to the conclusion that he was, in fact, bent as a bowtruckle, she'd been single and more than one fine young man had caught her eye. For almost five years, she'd been searching for someone who caught her attention and held it in a romantic or lustful sense and if she was being honest, she hadn't had a lot of luck until Charlie had come home for Christmas four years ago. She'd casually dated a few men, but none of them had been of consequence and since then she'd spent too many nights imagining a future with a man who hadn't ever looked twice at her.

She hated being a statistic, too, and Hermione was thinking that this was the year she was finally going to do something about it. She was tired of window shopping. She wanted to try things on for size. She didn't know what she might have to do to convince Charlie that she was an available and passionate young woman, but she was sure that a conversation or two might be a step in the right direction if she could just wrestle his attention away from his brothers and his parents for a few minutes.


	2. Chapter 2

"You want another drink, Hermione?" Charlie asked her hours later when dinner and pudding had been devoured and the children had been put to bed.

Hermione blinked sleepily, having been steadily necking glasses of wine as she reached for a little Dutch courage to try and lure the handsome Dragon Tamer into conversation. Or her bed. Whichever came first, really.

"I'd love one," she confessed with a nod. "Do you need a hand carrying them all?"

Charlie grinned.

"I can levitate them all if you're too tired or don't want to get up, love," he offered.

Hermione smiled, supposing that was true even as she got to her feet. She wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to speak to him alone in the kitchen, even if it was only for a few short minutes while they fixed everyone another round of drinks.

"I'll give you a hand," she said, slipping past him and into the kitchen.

She pointedly ignored the wide smile on Fleur's face and the knowing smirk on Ginny's. Both witches had clued onto her interest in Charlie last year when he'd arrived late, showing up Christmas Day rather than Christmas Eve, causing both Hermione and his mother to drink themselves sloshed with worry. She listened to the heavy tread of Charlie's boots as he followed her away from the noise of the living room and into the kitchen.

"So, how've you been, Hermione?" Charlie asked conversationally as he began seeking out various alcohol bottles from the cabinet above the fridge. "How's life been treating you?"

Hermione smiled, accepting the bottles he handed her when he began pulling them out of the cupboard, apparently intent on mixing some kind of potent cocktail for his family.

"Oh, you know. Not too bad," Hermione shrugged. "Though I'm pleased it's finally the holidays."

"Yeah?" he asked. "Are they working you too hard, love?"

Hermione laughed.

"I'm self-employed," she told him. "It's my own fault I'm so frazzled."

"Oh," Charlie frowned. "What are you doing with yourself these days? I think the last time I asked, you were still working for the Ministry?"

"I was," Hermione nodded. "I was pushing papers and handling scientific data and statistical analysis in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures office. But when my supervisor decided to run for a seat on the Wizengamot, his replacement drove me absolutely mad. I hexed the little bitch so badly that she spent three months in St Mungo's when she pushed me too far, one time too often. I quit on the spot before they could sack me. She was still bleeding on the floor at my feet when the head of the department rushed in, panicking. I didn't even give notice, I just left."

"Right on," Charlie grinned. "You'd fit right in on the Dragon reserve in Romania. I knocked out my supervisor's tooth when I was still just a rookie when he almost got me and a fellow rookie roasted alive because he pushed us too hard and threw us into a situation we had no idea how to handle with a rabid Razorscale."

Hermione laughed, relieved to hear it. She'd been a bit embarrassed following her actions when she'd quit, especially since Molly and Arthur had both expressed their disappointment with her for her lack of restraint before she'd told them just what the bitch had asked of her.

"Yes, well," Hermione blushed. "She didn't almost get me killed, but the agenda she was pushing was going to impact almost every magical creature known to wizardkind and she wanted me to fudge my research to get her agenda through. Since it all came to light, she's recovered and she was given the sack, as well. They begged me to come back, but too many of those within the department had been all for her agenda."

"Does this have anything to do with the Bill of Harvest I heard rumors about a while back?" Charlie frowned. "Me and the lads were going to storm the Ministry on dragon-back if that one had gotten through."

"That's the one,"' Hermione nodded. "And they didn't just want to increase the harvest of dragon-parts. They wanted to open it up to all magical creatures, including those considered Being, rather than just Beast. They wanted to harvest werewolves and vampires and veela, alongside house elves and dragons and bowtruckles. Any magical creature not a human-wizard was going to be on the chopping block and I  _refused_  to let that happen. Not on my watch."

Charlie smiled at her slowly, his mouth pulling up at the corners when he spotted the way she planted her hands on her hips and huffed indignantly.

"So, what do you do now?" he asked, moving over to dig into the trunk he'd left by the door, producing a few bottles of liquor she was sure she'd never heard of.

Hermione's indignant expression faded away.

"I run an outreach center for magical creatures," she told him. "In addition to veterinarian services for owls, and cats and other familiars, we also help house, employ, feed, and provide legal representation for Beings and Beasts that need help. I brew a monthly batch of Wolfsbane for any werewolf who wants it, and we hold blood drives to keep the vampires fed rather than forcing them to rely on friends and family to feed them, or having their instincts take over and drive them to kill. We help get abused elves out from under cruel masters and offer legal representation for goblins who've been wronged by wizards. We take on litters of Kneazels and Crups when they get away from their owners and breed, finding them all good homes. You name it and if it's a service that helps to benefit magical creatures, we offer it. Since my Foundation is the first of its kind, it's been hectic, but it's worth it every time I see the grateful smile on the face of a vampire child, or the relief on the face of a werewolf whose down on his luck."

"That's amazing," Charlie told her, looking stunned. "And here I was thinking that my work with the lizards was important."

Hermione laughed.

"But it is," Hermione told him. "The work of Dragon Tamers and the vision of the reserves was actually something I emulated for my business plan. For centuries, wizards have come together to protect dragons from hunters, and from being detected by muggles, and from extinction. I wanted to do the same thing on a larger scale for all the creatures and beings that wizards haven't begun to consider 'useful' to our society because their parts can't be used in quite so wide a range of wizarding pursuits."

"So, you save the world, is what you're saying?" Charlie grinned at her.

"I… well… no," Hermione admitted. "If I'm being honest, in the early stages of the Bill of Harvest, I was one of the ones advocating it for that very reason. Typically, if a creature is considered 'useful' to the human population, it will be bred and protected. Look at how we farm sheep, cattle, horses, dogs and cats. Even owls. Creatures that we have use for, we strive to keep, for want of a better word. Early on, when the bill was suggested and before the full extent of their goals were revealed, I thought it was wise. I learned the error of my ways and I've been working tirelessly ever since to undo the damage I did when I didn't immediately nip it in the bud, like I should've."

Charlie smiled gently.

"You're motivated by guilt," he concluded.

"I suppose so," Hermione nodded, biting her lip and looking at her feet, shamefaced.

"But that's not all," Charlie said quietly. "The way your eyes light up when you talk about your work, and the fire in you when you talk about heading off that Bill… helping those creatures is what gets you out of bed every morning, same as me."

Hermione lifted her head, meeting his gaze for a long moment, surprised to see the appreciation and the heat in his eyes as he watched her.

"It is," she agreed quietly, nodding her head.

Charlie nodded too, his eyes searching her face for a long moment before lowering to roam over the rest of her. Hermione felt his gaze like a hot caress and it was all she could do to stand still and keep from quivering or squirming under his attention. She wanted so badly to reach out and close the distance between the two of them.

"Do you like dragons, too?" he asked, raising his eyebrows at her when he returned his eyes to his face.

"Of course," Hermione said. "Actually, if you have some time while you're home… I could use a little help regarding something dragon related at the clinic."

"Oh, yeah?" Charlie asked.

Hermione nodded, opening her mouth intent on explaining further, but before she could, Molly Weasley suddenly bustled into the kitchen – probably to find out what was taking them so long.

"Everything alright, dears?" Molly asked, her eyes dancing over them and making Hermione realize that at some point after digging Romanian liquor and what looked a bit like dragon's blood out of his bag, Charlie had crossed the kitchen to stand close enough to her that she had to tip her head back to hold his gaze thanks to their height difference.

"Everything's fine, Mum," Charlie reassured the woman, his eyes leaving Hermione's face to look over at his mother before he took a small step back as though realizing that they were standing intimately and a little inappropriately close together. "Just mixing up a little holiday cheer for everyone, you know?"

Molly narrowed her eyes as Charlie turned his attention to doing just that, beginning to pour together a particularly potent looking cocktail that Hermione suspected was going to knock her socks off. She watched him mix them before stepping a little closer and beginning to copy what he was doing. She was a bit annoyed with Molly for interrupting, but she didn't want to mention the batch of dragon eggs that had been delivered to the clinic in front of Molly. The woman might be one of the kindest people she knew, but she didn't particularly approve of Hermione's business. In particular, she wasn't a fan of the way the profession brought her into contact with so many "dangerous individuals", and she tended to launch into lecturing Hermione about it whenever the topic was mentioned.

"So, how long are you home, Charlie?" Hermione asked, changing the subject when he shot her a sideways glance full of questions.

"Only until the day after New Year," he said. "Got to get back to the lizards. If the weather keeps on like this, I might not even be able to stay that long. Blizzards like this can kill young dragons, and the lads will be struggling to keep them all warm and protected."

"Oh, darling, I'm sure they can do without you for a few days," Molly protested. "You promised you'd be home the entire holiday, this time. And you promised you'd finally start thinking about settling down and finding a nice witch to marry…"

Hermione winced when she noticed the way Charlie's hand balled into a fist at the mention of marriage. She knew it was a sore topic between the Dragon Tamer and his mother. Molly, ever the maternal figure, wanted parenthood for everyone and she didn't appreciate being ignored when she pestered her children about giving her a few more grandchildren.

"Bill and Fleur have got another little one on the way, you know, and I know how close you and your brother are. It would be so nice if the two of you could have children around the same time, so the cousins could grow up together," Molly went on when Charlie didn't answer.

"Might be a bit hard to do when I work in a male-dominated industry and live on a remote dragon reserve in Romania, Mum," Charlie said. "I can hardly go seducing one of the lads into squirting me out a kid in time to catch up with Bill."

"Well, maybe if you spent a little more time around other people besides those same wizards you've been working with for fifteen years, you'd have yourself a girlfriend by now," Molly said snidely, and Hermione suspected the few spiked eggnogs she'd had were going to her head and making her feisty.

Charlie's teeth clenched, and Hermione watched the muscle in his square jaw begin to tick as he continued to fix the cocktails he was crafting.

"Maybe if every time I came home, I wasn't obligated to spend every spare minute in the direct company of blood relatives and their spouses, I might've snagged myself a pretty witch," Charlie countered, and Hermione winced at being dismissed in such a manner.

Her cheeks brightened to pink when Charlie chose that very moment to dart her a look, catching her wince. His brow pulled into a frown for a long moment before he shot her an apologetic half-smile.

"Maybe if you came home more than once a year, we wouldn't feel the need to monopolize your time quite so much," Molly argued hotly, putting her hands on her plump hips and scowling at her son.

"Did you ever think that maybe I'd come home more often if you didn't pester me about getting hitched every time I do?" Charlie growled at the woman, the famous Weasley temper rearing its head.

"Pester?" Molly demanded. "I don't pester! Hermione, would you say that I have a tendency to pester people about their love lives?"

Hermione, having managed to successfully avoid being too close to Molly all evening for the sake of avoiding such pestering, herself, winced at being drawn into the argument.

"Pestering might be too strong a word," Hermione allowed, not wanting to outright tell the woman she was a nagger, but not about to throw Charlie under the bus just to protect Molly's feelings. The matriarch of the Weasley brood had been allowed free reign too long in Hermione's opinion.

"Meaning?" Molly asked, looking affronted.

"Meaning that you do have a tendency to remind your children, their spouses, and even me of what you consider to be the shortcomings in our lives," Hermione informed her quietly. "You ask Charlie every time he comes home just when it is that he's going to settle down into the role of husband and father even though, from what the rest of us can see, the only true love in his life is his dragons and his job. I'm certain that as a mother you don't want consider the idea that any of your children might find themselves lonely or unattached for too long a time, but not everyone is cut out for being married, or having children, Molly. You've asked me several times since Ron and I broke up whether I had my eye on a nice young man, and even tried to set me up with Lee, and then with that chap that Percy works with, and then with Neville. I've given you no indication that I'm looking for a romantic partner."

"But you're currently not seeing anyone," Molly pointed out.

"Maybe she doesn't want to be seeing anyone, Mum," Charlie spoke up, coming to Hermione's defense when Molly eyed her unkindly. "Maybe I don't either. How many times have I told you that the only way I'm getting married or having kids is if some witch comes along who wants to live in the middle of nowhere surrounded by dragons and the lads? We don't all want rugrats swinging from our legs, you know? Some of us have bigger dreams that bringing more hungry mouths into the world."

"Parenthood is a lot more than just feeding a hungry child and having them occasionally be clingy," Molly humphed, crossing her arms over her ample bosom and glaring at the two of them. "I would've thought that having seen Bill raising Victoire would've showed you that, Charles?"

Charlie snorted.

"He writes to me about how he and Fleur never get a full night's sleep, and how they can't do more than grab a quickie during nap-times for the sprog, Mum," Charlie pointed out. "Sleepless nights, accidents, illness, all the responsibilities of keeping a helpless and tiny human being alive. What appeal would there be in that for someone like me?"

Hermione bit her lip, supposing that she might have to permanently put aside her dreams of one day marrying Charlie and starting a family with him if this was how he felt on the topic.

"I don't understand how a man who has devoted his life to the wellbeing of magical creatures – hand rearing more of them than I can count – is so put off by the notion of reproducing," Molly said, frowning at Charlie like he was some kind of puzzle.

"I'm not put off on having them, Mum," Charlie sighed, running a hand through his hair and shooting a frustrated look toward Hermione. "I just… all those things already come with the territory of chasing my lizards, you know? How am I to help be there to soothe a colicky baby in the wee small hours when I'm too busy trying to cure a hiccupping baby dragon at three o'clock in the morning, or wrestling a grumpy old  _koroleva_  into holding still long enough to treat her for scale-rot? When am I going to have time to grab even a quickie with my witch when I'm already run off my feet and hardly ever home, eh? What kind of life would that be for whatever poor witch falls for my charms?"

"Then stop working yourself so hard, my boy," Molly said, exasperated.

"I love my job," Charlie argued. "You wouldn't ask Bill to give up Curse Breaking, or Percy to cut back his hours at the Ministry, would you? You wouldn't have the twins slow down productions and sales through their Wheezers franchise, or tell Ron and Ginny to stop playing professional Quidditch. Why do you insist on telling me that my chosen career is no good when it's so specialized a field?"

"Because none of their positions prevent them from interacting with other human beings for weeks at a time," Molly snapped. "You brothers are all married or seeing people. Your sister is engaged. You're the last hold out and I'm worried that if you leave it much longer, you'll regret it. You're not getting any younger, darling."

"I'm only thirty-three, Mum," Charlie sighed, frowning at her. "Hardly ancient given that the average wizard lives to one hundred and fifty or even two hundred."

"You're no average wizard!" Molly hissed. "You insist on continually exposing yourself to dangerous situations, defying death over and over again on the merit of your speed and your wits, alone. Don't think I didn't notice your limp, Charlie. I know you lied about the extent of your injuries after the day's dragon disaster. You might very well not make it to forty!"

Hermione closed her eyes in horror at the very thought.

"And you want to inflict me on some poor witch and a rugrat or two?" Charlie demanded. "So, I could potentially leave them high and dry when I get roasted alive by my lizards? Doomed to widowship and a fatherless existence? Why would I ever want to inflict that on someone?"

"Then quit, Charlie!" Molly said loudly. "Quit chasing those stupid dragons and get yourself a job that will let you be home in the evenings and let you raise a family without fear of losing you every time your leave the blasted house!"

Charlie opened his mouth, intent on letting Molly have it by the look on his face, but before he could say something that would likely ruin Christmas and make the pushy witch cry, Hermione put her hand on his arm. His wild blue eyes darted down to meet her own and he frowned a little, clearly frustrated.

"Is there anything else to go in these drinks, Charlie?" Hermione asked quietly, nodding toward the cocktails.

Charlie glanced at them.

"They need to be set on fire," he said seriously before pulling his wand from the pocket of his jeans and flicking it at the cocktails. " _Incendio_."

The anger simmering through the Dragon Tamer caused the spell to overshoot and scorch Molly's kitchen benches, but Hermione didn't say anything.

"Will you help me carry them to the living room?" she asked, intent on getting him away from his mother before their spat could turn into a full blown row.

"We're not finished this conversation," Molly warned when Charlie nodded and scooped up a tea tray to load the drinks onto.

"We are unless you want to hear exactly what I think of your nagging, Mum," Charlie bit out coldly before stomping away into the living room.

Hermione watched him go, shaking her head to herself and sighing softly.

"I don't nag, do I, Hermione?" Molly asked, frowning after her son when he disappeared from view.

Hermione bit her lip.

"You put pressure on issues that, typically, are already on our minds," Hermione offered quietly. "I'm sure that Charlie is well aware of his bachelor existence, just as I'm aware of my being single. Just as Ginny's aware that the length of her engagement is really beginning to drag on a bit. We all know you mean well, so we tend to grit our teeth and put up with it, but being harped after regarding things we're either quietly unhappy with, or perfectly content with, grows tiresome after a while. Based on his comments, it seems clear to me that being without a partner or children is beginning to weigh on Charlie, but he loves his job too much to give it up and thinks it would be unfair to inflict that kind of life on his family. And he's right. There are very few witches who would happily relocate to the dragon reserve in Romania, and fewer still who would put up with being abandoned to deal with all the hard parts of child-rearing alone while he plays with his dragons. And even fewer who wouldn't worry themselves sick that he might be eaten whenever he's called in to handle something with his dragons. He might be content to live as a bachelor until he's too old to keep up with the lizards; or he might be terribly lonely and finding himself caught between the desire for a family and the desire to keep the job he loves and has worked so hard to keep."

Molly was frowning at her.

"But… if he quit, those issues would be solved," Molly pointed out.

"They would be," Hermione agreed. "But Charlie would be miserable. Would you really want that for him?"

"He'd have a family; he'd be happy," Molly insisted stubbornly.

"He'd go from an adrenaline fueled existence to one of unbearable boredom," Hermione argued. "Can you imagine how dull it would be after wrestling dragons for a living, to suddenly find yourself manning a desk in some stuffy office? He lives to be outdoors, surrounded by magical creatures and doing what he can to help them. He's never going to want to give that up, Molly. Not even when he's a little old sod who can't bend down to pull his own socks on. And I don't blame him. I wouldn't easily give up my job, even with the late nights, the terrible hours, the long days and the full moon stress. Even with the danger that comes along with working so closely with so many magical creatures, I wouldn't change it. I wouldn't trade it for motherhood, no matter my intention to one day have a family of my own. Having you prod me and poke me about doing so makes it hard to enjoy your company in those moments, and I'm sure Charlie feels the same way."

Molly looked highly affronted, and Hermione would bet the alcohol in her system had her spoiling for a fight, so before the other witch could work up a response, she picked up a second tray of the flaming beverages and followed Charlie back into the living room where everyone was still gathered. She noticed immediately that Charlie hadn't returned to his seat, and that he was instead pacing back and forth by the window, his flaming drink in his hand and a scowl on his face. She caught Arthur's eye when she handed him his drink and made a face before nodding toward Molly where she'd begun angrily clearing away pots and pans in the kitchen.

Arthur sighed, tipping his head toward Charlie and raising his eyebrows. Hermione nodded, knowing he was silently asking if his wife had been pestering his son again. Shaking his head, the Weasley patriarch held up his flaming cocktail, though he looked rather apprehensive about drinking it, and cleared his throat loudly.

"It's wonderful to have you all home for the holidays, Weasleys," he announced. "We're blessed to have your delightful spouses, and family friends joining us this evening. Our big family is only getting bigger and I, for one, couldn't be happier. Happy Christmas!"

"Happy Christmas," everyone recited with a cheer.

Hermione shuddered as she scanned the others, trying to figure out how she was supposed to drink her cocktail without burning off her eyebrows. She looked toward Charlie, but he was no help given that he didn't even blow his out before lifting it to his lips and downing it in three long gulps.

"Merlin's beard! What did I just drink?" Arthur asked, his eyes wide as he looked toward his son having emulated Charlie and consumed the drink as quickly as he could. He clutched his chest as though it burned going down and he panted with the effort of drinking the strange concoction.

"A Bloody Firestorm," Charlie informed him. "That bubbling in your gut is the flame-activated dragon's blood that makes up part of the concoction."

"There's blood in this?" Ginny asked, looking horrified.

"Dragon's blood," Charlie nodded. "And it'll knock you on your arse."

Hermione chuckled when he clapped Bill on the shoulder and grinned evilly at his elder brother.

"Good luck remembering to drag yourself out of bed to play Santa Claus tonight," Charlie taunted.

"Charlie!" Ginny protested. "I can't believe you just… Yuck!"

Hermione shook her head at the younger witch when she wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and set aside the remainder of her drink.

"It won't kill you, Ginny," Charlie rolled his eyes at his sister.

"Perhaps not," Arthur allowed. "But I feel certain I'm going to need a good night's sleep if I want to drag myself out of bed for the festivities tomorrow. Goodnight, Weasleys."

"Night, Dad," they chimed back to him in dribs and drabs before the man strolled out of the room and collected his fussy wife from the kitchen, coaxing her upstairs with promises of a foot massage.

Charlie shook his head at his complaining siblings when they all suggested that it might be time to turn in as well, all of them tired out from the long day and contented with their full bellies after the evening's meal. Hermione watched Charlie carry his empty cup back into the kitchen to set on the sink before he pulled on his cloak and let himself out of the house. Bill followed her into the kitchen, frowning when he saw Charlie was out in the snow.

"What happened?" he asked of Hermione.

"Your Mum was giving him grief about his job and nagging him to get a move on with having some kids so that they'd grow up alongside your next one," Hermione told him.

"Ah, bloody hell," Bill muttered, raking his hands over his face. "Bet that went down well."

"I had to intervene before he could tell her to stick her meddling up her arse," Hermione replied, shaking her head a little.

"She gave you an earful too, I'd wager?" Bill said after a moment of watching her shrewdly.

Hermione sighed.

"She thought about it," Hermione nodded, polishing off the last of her drink and making a face at the flavor. "I reminded her that pestering us when we might very well be perfectly happy as we are comes across as nagging, and that pointing out hard truths if we're unhappy is just unkind, and I may have walked off before she could reply…"

"Blimey," Bill chuckled. "You let her have it, then?"

"I was polite," Hermione sniffed. "And unfortunately, your mother, though she means well, tends to do more harm than good with her nagging. Someone had to tell her, and if I hadn't, I'm sure Charlie would've, and he'd have been far less polite than I was."

Bill nodded, chuckling a little bit.

"Then I guess I have a question for you, Hermione," Bill said, nodding at his wife when she indicated she was going to head up to bed.

"Hmmm?" Hermione asked.

"Are you going to keep on with this game of watching him from afar and not confessing you're mad for him, or not?" Bill wanted to know.

"Being mad for him and seeing a future for the two of us as a couple are two different things, Bill," Hermione told him quietly, frowning a little but not bothering to be embarrassed that he knew about her crush.

"Why? You daydream of having sprogs with Charlie, yeah?"

Hermione blushed and made a mental note to be careful just what she shared with Fleur in future.

"In the sense that most women daydream of such things starring a man they fancy," Hermione sighed. "But the reality is vastly different. We might have a good deal in common with our passion for magical creatures, but Charlie is dedicated to his dragons and will likely live out his life on the reserve in Romania until he dies in the field when a hungry dragon eats him, or until he's old and can't keep up with the beasts any more. He won't be budged on moving from there, and he made some good points in his argument with your mother about the commitment required for marriage and fatherhood. Currently he believes he would half-arse it, and I think he's correct. What's more, I have my clinic and my foundation to take care of here in Britain. I can hardly just close my doors and pack up my life to move to the reserve with him. The relationship would, at best, be one trialed by long-distance, and at worst, would result in one or the other of us sacrificing our passions to be with each other."

"You wouldn't move over there?" Bill asked.

"I might, if I didn't have my foundation," Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "But even if I did, it wouldn't be much of a life. I thrive on knowledge and learning and challenges. Without proper Dragon Tamer training, I'd be sat on my rear going slowly mental with worry that every time he left the house, he might not make it home. And if, by some miracle, he moved back home, he would go mad with boredom. The daydream is a nice one, I'll admit, filled with happiness and laughter and a good deal of angry-sex to keep things spicy, but the reality is one of impotence and frustration and disappointment, Bill."

Bill sighed, his frown deepening as he glanced out the kitchen window and spotted Charlie in the snow, visible only because he'd apparently lit a pipe or a cigarette and the glow of it burning pinpointed him amid the blizzard.

"Look, I won't lie to you, Hermione," Bill said quietly as all of his siblings and their partners began making their way upstairs to bed. "You and Charlie getting together would be bloody brilliant. Mum would be off both of your backs, and what's more, I think you could make each other happy. I confess that, selfishly, I'd like what Mum wants to be a reality, too. Vic's got Teddy as her companion, but none of the others are looking like breeding the next generation of Weasley's just yet, and in truth, Charlie's always been my favourite brother. I'd like our kids to be close; the best of friends like me and Charlie were growing up. More than that, my brother is lonely, Hermione. He's lonely on that reserve and I reckon it's driving him mad. He loses his temper with Mum because there's a dark and bitter part of him that knows she's right. If he quit, he'd find a witch, settle down, have a family and all that shebang, but he  _knows_  he'd be unhappy to leave the life of Taming behind, and he'd take it out on his family.

"And you're no different, love. Every year he comes home, and every year I watch you watch him, and I hope, and I nudge and I try to will the two of you into not being such blockheads and just making a go of things, but it doesn't happen. You've been alone a long while now, and from what Fleur tells me, you've haven't been bothering with dates anymore? You're holding out for Charlie and you're not making a move to claim him."

"How can I?" Hermione frowned at him. "I've just explained why the reality of claiming him would be an ill-fated one."

"So, what then?" Bill asked. "You let go of your crush on him, and he grows angrier, bitterer, and lonelier on the reserve until one day he's just bad enough that he's forced to quit, or he dies there? And you go on, lonely yourself and grower bitter with wasted potential? Come on, Hermione. We didn't all fight a war just to let this hard-won life pass us all by."

"And if we try and it fails?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows. "What then? I'm still welcome here because my breakup with Ron was amicable when he realized he was batting for the other team. If things fell apart with Charlie, they wouldn't be amicable. They would be fiery and ugly and full of resentment. You lot are the only family I've got left. I don't want to lose that when all the evidence points to such a dramatic end. Besides, Charlie's never looked twice at me. It's only ever been wishful thinking that I might catch his eye, let alone his heart."

Bill looked first doubtful, and then disbelieving. Hermione flinched a little when he reached over and squeezed her shoulder gently.

"For a smart girl, that was a pretty silly thing to say, Hermione," Bill told her. "I'm going to go on upstairs and ease whatever aches are plaguing my pregnant wife before playing Santa Claus to my daughter. Why don't you find out for yourself just how effectively you've got your hooks into my brother, eh? And turn the lights off down here when you're done."

He gave her shoulder a final squeeze before striding out of the kitchen and climbing the stairs to the top of the house where Fleur awaited him in bed. Hermione bit her lip, standing in the kitchen and wondering if she should also turn in for the night, or if she should put her cloak on and make the most of a little more time to spend with Charlie. Part of her knew that the most sensible thing to do would be to just take herself off to bed and to put the notion of pursuing anything with Charlie from her mind, but she didn't think she had the strength of will to manage that.

Besides, even if they had no feasible future, Hermione wasn't above pursuing something entirely physical until the fluttering in her stomach every time he came near stopped. Squaring her shoulders, Hermione crossed the kitchen and collected her cloak, scarf and hat, donning them all before letting herself out into the raging blizzard.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: *Did not go into this planning on such whopper chapters*
> 
> *is having entirely too much fun writing this*
> 
> *is worried it's going to evolve into something bigger than planned*
> 
> *was wrong about it being almost completed in draft form*
> 
> *this chapter changes everything*
> 
> *why do I do this to myself?*
> 
> *Shakes head and hands over chapter, hoping for love in return*
> 
> xx-Kitten.

Charlie looked over at the sound of the door closing, his cigarette held to his lips as he breathed in the toxic smoke greedily. Hermione hadn't been aware that he smoked, and she suspected it was a habit induced by stress. Not that it was a deal-breaker for her.

"It's too cold out here, Hermione," he protested when he saw the way she immediately began to shiver. "Go on back inside, yeah? I'll be just a minute."

Stubbornly, Hermione shook her head, shuffling closer to him. Charlie shook his head at her in return, grinning a little even if he did look somewhat exasperated. Before she could come any closer or worry about having her nose freeze off her face in the bitter wind and driving snow, Charlie dropped his cigarette, snapping his fingers and wandlessly vanishing the butt before he hurried toward her.

"Come on, love. Back inside where it's warm," he said, bundling her up into his arms and shuffling her back into the house. "You barmy, witch?"

Hermione looked over her shoulder at the wizard when they were safely back inside the warm kitchen as he began trying to help her out of her cloak.

"No," she said.

Charlie shook his head, looking like he didn't believe her in the slightest, but he didn't say anything further or embarrass her by asking her why she would risk the blistering cold just to be in his company.

"Did everyone else go to bed?" he asked when they'd both removed their winter clothing.

"I think they were a bit squeamish after that cocktail," Hermione told him honestly, her own stomach feeling a bit funny after ingesting the drink he'd concocted.

Charlie laughed. "Yeah, I'm pleased this place has more than one loo," he said. "They'll be a mess in the morning."

Hermione made a face at him for the mental image, but Charlie just laughed.

"You want a cup of tea before bed?" he offered, poking into the kitchen and tapping his wand against the kettle to bring it to boil.

"That would be lovely," she nodded. "Are you alright?"

Charlie looked over at her darkly as he poured them both a cup of tea and Hermione was pleasantly surprised to notice that he fixed hers just the way she liked it without prompting.

"I'm fine," he said after a few long minutes of silence when he brought her cup of tea to her before going back to collect his trunk from beside the door and carrying it into the living room and over to the heavily decorated Christmas tree in the corner by the fireplace.

"And I'm an elephant," Hermione replied sarcastically as she rolled her eyes, followed him into the living room and settled herself down on the couch.

Charlie shot her a wry grin as he opened his trunk and began unloading a collection of Christmas gifts for everyone, stacking them under the tree alongside the mound of gifts already threatening to overwhelm the limited space.

"Just tired of the same old fight, Hermione," he confessed quietly. "Tired of being caught between the societal norms that Mum wants me to abide by and the incessant intrigue I endure for my dragons."

"You know, there is a way you could have both," Hermione told him, tipping her head to one side before sipping her tea.

"Oh, yeah?" he asked.

"Get the Ministry to open a dragon reserve here in Britain," she suggested. "With Kingsley as Minister at the moment, you'd need only to discuss it with him to get the ball rolling, and the benefits to the magical community, not to mention the boost it would provide to international trade would more than warrant it."

"I've tried in the past to get them to open one here," Charlie sighed, shaking his head.

"While Kingsley was Minister?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows.

Charlie's mouth twisted, and she could tell he hadn't.

"Unless… you don't want to come home?" Hermione asked. "There's nothing wrong with admitting it if that's the case, Charlie. You have a very large family and sometimes the distance of countries still isn't enough separation."

"Sometimes it's not," Charlie chuckled quietly, closing his trunk again and rising to his feet before he crossed the room to take up the empty seat on the other end of the two-seater couch where she sat. "And other times the next room seems too far."

Hermione smiled gently, completely understanding that feeling.

"Aside from your mother's solution to the problem, what have you considered doing about all this? Do you  _want_  a partner and a family?" Hermione asked quietly, supposing it might be too heavy a topic, but needing a straight answer from him on the matter before engaging her plans of seduction.

"Sometimes it's all I want," Charlie whispered, frowning into the teacup he held in his two large hands, making the mug seem small and dainty in comparison. "And other times it's the last thing I want. Half the time a wife and a few sprogs are still sitting in the someday box, you know? A far off goal that I'll put into motion when I've finished growing the hell up, and then another year slips by and all I've got to my name is a qualification in dragon magizoology, enough scars from the lizards to map out an entirely new skin, and a few mates who can say the same."

Hermione nodded slowly, watching him run a hand through his red hair and wondering how she ought to proceed.

"And you?" he asked, looking sideways at her. "You're in the same boat, being unattached, Hermione. What are your plans? Going to conform to society's demand for a husband and two point five children to meet the status quo?"

Hermione nibbled her lip.

"I was thinking at least four, actually," Hermione confessed quietly. "I never managed to undo the memory charms on my parents, and I was very lonely growing up an only-child. When the time comes for beginning a family of my own, I'd like it to be a big one."

Charlie turned his head to look at her more fully and Hermione met his gaze seriously. She'd known for a while that when she got around to children, she wanted a collection of them.

"Yeah?" he asked, raising one eyebrow. "You got your eye on anyone, then?"

Hermione's cheeks warmed.

"Yes," she confessed. "It just so happens that I do."

"Oh," he frowned. "So… what are you waiting for?"

Hermione smiled.

"He's not ready," she shrugged her shoulders. "Half the time, a wife and children are still tucked away in his 'someday box'."

Charlie's eyes danced over her face for a long minute as she repeated his words back to him, wondering if he would click that she was referring to him.

"What if he's never ready?" Charlie asked in a low tone, his voice turning a little hoarse.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders again.

"I've got time," she said softly. "Wizards can live to one hundred and fifty or two hundred, you know? And I'm only twenty-seven. There's plenty of time left for him to finish growing up and begin collecting a few more things to his name than a qualification and some mates in the same field."

Charlie swallowed thickly, his mouth opening a little like he wanted to say something, but he wasn't sure he should. Hermione smiled gently, sipping her tea once more and wondering if maybe Bill had been right, and it had been a silly thing to say that Charlie wasn't interested in her in the slightest.

The silence stretched between them, Charlie opening and closing his mouth several times like she'd actually managed to leave him speechless and Hermione began to wonder if she'd come on a little too strong. Her cheeks warmed the longer he looked at her without saying anything and she bit her lip, looking down at her lap and squinting against the urge to blurt out an apology for being too forward.

"I… got you something," Charlie said after the longest time and Hermione looked up frowning.

"A Christmas gift?" Hermione asked. "I'll open mine tomorrow with everyone else, Charlie."

"No, I mean… I do have one to give you tomorrow, but I got you something else. Something to give you tonight."

"Oh?" Hermione asked, the butterflies in her tummy beginning to riot at the very idea.

"Yeah… uh… In Iceland they have this tradition for Yule where, on Christmas Eve, everyone exchanges books before bed. There's another tradition some people have of exchanging a pair of Yule themed pajamas, and since I know you love days spent lazing about in pajamas, and you adore books… I thought… well… here."

He held out a roughly wrapped package to her and Hermione reached for it automatically, her cheeks glowing with a combination happiness and embarrassment.

"But… I don't have anything to give you in return," she protested, never having been all that good at the gift-giving practice.

Charlie chuckled.

"I saw a present under the tree with my name on it from you," he said, jerking his thumb toward the tree where she'd stashed all of his gifts.

"But that's for tomorrow," Hermione said, holding the gift he'd given her loosely in her hands.

"Just open it," he rolled his eyes. "You're the only person I know who'd enjoy a gift of a tradition like this. And I might've got myself a pair of Yuletide jammies to match."

He returned to his trunk to dig out a pair of flannel pyjamas with dragons in Christmas hats on them. Despite her nervousness, Hermione couldn't help but laugh when he held them up proudly to show them to her.

"Thank you, Charlie," she said sincerely as she began peeling open the paper to reveal the treasure hidden within. She hummed in amusement when she discovered that in addition to wrapping it in Christmas paper, he'd wrapped her book inside the neatly tied pyjamas.

"You didn't lie," she laughed as she untied the flannels. "They really do match. Won't we look a sight at breakfast in the morning?"

Charlie winked at her. "There are a few differences," he told her. "Yours are all girl dragons, and if you look closely, you might notice the festive painting on their claws."

Hermione squinted at the fabric before she began to laugh when she realized he was right.

"Thank you," she said, smiling at him. "I can't wait to wear them."

Charlie just smiled, waiting for her to look at the book he'd given her too.

"Oh, Charlie…" Hermione whispered when she saw he'd given her an encyclopedia of magical creatures that she'd mentioned months ago to Ginny but hadn't gotten around to buying for herself because of the price. "You shouldn't have."

"Traditionally, I should've gotten you a novel you could read into the wee small hours, but I wasn't sure what you'd think of me if I picked you up some bodice ripper about a handsome Dragon Tamer."

Hermione began to laugh, clutching the book to her chest adoringly before setting aside the gifts and the wrappings and reaching for Charlie, shuffling down the length of the couch to curl her arms around his waist. She cuddled into him delightedly, burrowing into his strong chest and enjoying the way he curled those powerfully muscled arms around her in return.

"Thank you so much," Hermione said, her cheek against his chest. "I love the book, and the pyjamas. I've been wanting a copy of this one for months."

"I know," Charlie chuckled. "I  _might've_  conned Ginny into doing a little investigating into which book to get you."

Hermione laughed.

"For the record, though," she murmured, listening to the sound of his heartbeat and breathing in the scent of him as he held her snugly in his arms. "I most certainly would not have thought ill of you for a bodice-ripper novel about a Dragon Tamer."

Charlie's low chuckle was wicked and sinful.

"I'll keep that in mind for next year," he said softly, still holding her cuddled into him and seeming uninterested in letting her go any time soon.

Wriggling slightly, Hermione shuffled around until she was better stretched out along the length of the couch without letting him go. Merlin, it'd been a long time since any man had held her in his arms like this. Her stomach was performing a complicated gymnastics routine as the butterflies all fluttered and her heart was racing inside her chest.

"Hey, earlier you were saying something about needing my help at the clinic?" Charlie said after a little while.

He shuffled his shoulders slightly on the couch, making himself more comfortable and seeming perfectly content to hold her cuddled into his arms like they were already lovers, rather than just friends.

"Oh, yes," Hermione said, lifting her head to meet his gaze. "I need your help if you've got some time. We… had an unexpected delivery at the clinic last night right when I was about to lock up. A wizard in a hood ran up to me clutching a crate. I couldn't see inside it at the time, but I thought it might be someone in need of my veterinary service. He never said a word to me though, just shoved the crate into my arms and disapparated before I could ask his name."

"Bloody hell, Hermione," Charlie frowned at her. "Are you alright? He didn't hurt you, did he? What was in the box?"

"He didn't hurt me," Hermione assured him. "But that's where I need your help… Charlie, the crate was full of dragon eggs…"

Charlie's eyes widened in surprise, apparently not having expected that.

"Shit," he said. "How many? Do you know what kind of dragon they're from?"

"There are twelve of them," Hermione said, shaking her head. "But I don't know what breed they are. I've never seen a dragon egg like them before."

"Fuck. Where are they now? What did you do with them?" Charlie asked.

"They're at the clinic," Hermione admitted. "I'm not equipped for treating dragons in the middle of London. I've only ever been called on once by the Ministry to treat a wounded adult dragon, and in that instance, I was summoned to the location where the beast was injured. I did have a woman bring in a dragon egg she'd won in a poker game last year, but it was cracked and the baby inside had already perished before I could save it. When that happened, I did get a special chamber that replicates a dragon nest with heat lights to keep them warm; one of those ones that lets you adjust the temperature based on the breed of dragon and the number of eggs. Not knowing what breed they are, I've had to set it to the average, but I was hoping you'd be able to take a look and see if there is anything extra I need to do to care for them until they can be shipped to a reserve like yours."

Charlie nodded, his face pulled into a serious frown.

"Do you mind if we take a look now?" he asked. "I won't be able to sleep without knowing what breed they are and whether the temperature is set right."

Hermione could tell from the look in his eyes that Charlie was worried about the dragons and she realized in that moment that what he said about his love of them and his obsession with the lizards was true. They really did rule his life and she realized that if she wanted to try things on for size with him, she would have to accept that there would be times when the dragons would come before her on his list of priorities. Right then she wanted nothing more than to stay there on that sofa with his arms curled around her and the heat and strength of his powerful body pressed against her own. But from the way he began to squirm in his seat before rising when she'd moved off him far enough, she could tell he wanted to see the dragon eggs.

"Sure," Hermione said, standing quickly and hurrying for the door. She quickly donned her hat, scarf, gloves and cloak once more and watched Charlie do to same. "Are you ok if we apparate?"

"Might not be too safe in this weather, Hermione," Charlie said, squinting out the window as snow continued to batter against it. "Is your clinic hooked up to the Floo network?"

"No," Hermione confessed. "It would be too easy for people to break into my office and mess with my patients in the clinic if I did that. But my flat above the clinic is connected. We can go there and then take the stairs."

Charlie nodded, and Hermione supposed they wouldn't need their winter clothes. She pinched up some Floo powder and dropped it into the flames, crying out the destination of her living room. When she stepped through the house was dark, but Hermione quickly lit her wand and lighted the lamps she had scattered about the place. She barely had time to flick a quick tidying charm before Charlie followed her through and she would be lying if she said her stomach didn't backflip at the sight of her infatuation dusting the soot from his robes as he straightened to his full and impressive height inside her home.

He looked strange against the backdrop of books, Hermione noted idly.

"You really were made for wide open spaces in foreign countries, rather than cramped London flats, weren't you?" she said without thinking, her tone just a little wistful.

Charlie raised his eyebrows in surprise, clearly focused solely on investigating the dragons, rather than on her flat or her crush.

"City life wouldn't be for me, no," he admitted, shrugging his shoulders.

Hermione didn't say anything else before leading him over to a door that led to stairs to the lower level. They provided direct access to her clinic, rather than them having to bother with going to street level and entering through the public entrance. Charlie followed behind her and Hermione bit her lip as they entered her lab, still wondering what she should do about her feelings for him. She might've told him she'd be willing to wait until he was ready to consider settling down – though whether he understood that she meant him or not remained to be seen. The trouble was, that while she could certainly wait, she didn't want to give him, or herself, any kind of false hope that something between them could work. Her job kept her here in the heart of London where Beings and Creatures could gain access to her clinic via Diagon and Nocturn Allies. His kept him in the mountain of Romania.

They were from different worlds, and it was clear that he would never comfortably fit into hers in the city.

"Over here," Hermione said, leading him into her private office where she'd had a Dragon Egg Incubator installed. She'd locked it when she'd left, knowing that, technically, she wasn't supposed to keep eggs on the premises without notifying the DRCMC and without getting in touch with a sanctuary to take them.

Charlie clearly knew his way around an incubator because as soon as she'd showed him where it was, he went straight to it and began pushing the buttons that would allow him to view the eggs.

"Can we get a little extra light in here?" he asked in a low voice, squinting through the protective glass at the eggs.

Hermione flicked her wand, lighting up the clinic even though doing so upset the owls she'd been nursing back to health. The four of them hooted and ruffled their feather in annoyance, but Hermione shushed them soothingly, offering them each a treat while Charlie examined the eggs.

"Oh, bloody hell!" Charlie hissed.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, turning toward him in surprise when he began to cuss and started pressing several buttons on the Incubator.

"You said some bloke dropped these off?" he asked, and Hermione frowned when he turned the temperature dial on the incubator all the way down from keeping them warm to freezing.

"Yes. He just appeared. I don't know if he'd been waiting for me to close – though it seems likely, since being in possession of dragon eggs is illegal without a license – and he chose that time because there was no one else around, and because it meant I had to juggle my keys and the crate when he pushed it on me, giving him time to get away. Why?"

"Did you get a look at him?" Charlie asked.

"No," Hermione shook her head. "He had his hood pulled up on his cloak. He was tall, though. Maybe just an inch shorter than you… Dressed in a long black cloak that hid his figure well enough. To be honest, when he stepped out of the shadows, I was caught somewhere between fear of a Dementor attack, and a Death Eater ambush. I nearly hexed him, he startled me so badly."

"I wish you had," Charlie said darkly.

"Why? What's wrong, Charlie? Is it the eggs? Why did you lower the temperature?"

"Because these are Artic Frostfang eggs," Charlie said. "It's lucky you told me about them and we came straight here. They'd have cooked overnight if you'd left them for too long on that temperature."

Hermione gasped, covering her mouth with her hands.

"Aren't Frostfangs endangered?" she whispered.

"Critically so," Charlie said quietly. "Poaching and the melting ice-caps has threatened their existence to near extinction."

"Oh, Merlin! Charlie, I'm sorry. I didn't know. The blue pattern on the eggs made me think of the Swedish Shortsnout, and I set the temperature gauge for them."

"It's fine," Charlie waved away her apology. "You weren't to know. It's an easy mistake to make if you haven't seen a Frostfang egg before, and very few people in the world have."

"How on earth did someone get hold of twelve of them?" Hermione asked, shaking her head. "And what were they doing dumping them here?"

"I'd wager these eggs were pilfered from one of the Highland colonies. Way up North in the Isle of Skye there's a wizard with a license to protect the nesting Frostfangs that have begun migrating there in the summers when the ice melts. Bloody hell, this is bad, Hermione. Frostfangs were the original reason for the last Ice Age, from what we can figure. This blizzard… I knew there was something off about it."

"You think the Frostfangs are causing it?" Hermione said.

"They're  _extremely_  territorial about their nests, Hermione," Charlie said. "There's a reason that even though there's an entire colony of Frostfangs calling Skye home, only one bloke is in charge of it. They don't like people, and they can cause international incidents if they lose their tempers. Whatever nest was robbed, the mated pair guarding it are on the hunt. We need to get these eggs back North as soon as possible."

"We can't go now," Hermione said. "It's blowing a gale out there."

"It will only get worse," Charlie told her. "If we don't get these guys back to their parents safely, Britain will be buried in snow and plunged into temperatures so cold, the Frostfangs won't have to worry about the melting polar icecaps anymore. They'll turn the whole bloody world into their playground."

"Well, then what to we do?" Hermione asked. "Why would someone steal them only to bring them to me here at the clinic?"

Charlie frowned fiercely for a moment, looking through the frosting-up glass at the eggs one more time.

"Shit," he muttered. "Tell me you've got forms here somewhere for the application of permits to temporarily host dragons, Hermione?"

"Of course, I do," Hermione said. "Why…? You think someone is trying to set me up to get me closed down?"

"I guarantee it. Grab me one of those forms. I've got all my licenses and registrations. I can sign off on using your clinic as a temporary holding facility for the eggs until we can arrange to get them safely north."

"But… who would want to set me up in this manner?" Hermione asked.

"If I had to guess, I'd say it's one of the folks angry with you for running this foundation. There are a lot of people in the wizarding world who would sooner eradicate the creatures you're trying to save, love."

"But… dragons?"

"Well, going after the Frsotfangs could be two pronged. Some twit probably thought it's be a good way to ensure a white Christmas, this year," he explained. "And someone bloody bastard thought they'd take you down by dumping the eggs on you. Whoever did this knows enough to know that too long away from the nest will plunge us into another ice age. Whoever did this wants you out of the way and has a knowledge of dragons. Probably a trader in dragon parts. There're a few blokes in Britain who're partially responsible for the decline in Frostfang numbers thanks to poaching for the sake of trade. Frostfang teeth and heartstrings are incredibly potent for potion making and wand-making, the scales and hides make some of the most beautiful fashion-items you've ever seen, and the blood of a Frostfang when applied directly to the skin after proper preparation can prevent aging in wizards."

"But why would someone want to pin it on me?" Hermione asked. "I'm well known for my stance  _against_  the Bill of Harvest."

"Yeah, but you're also well-known for helping vampires and werewolves, Hermione. That rubs a lot of people the wrong way. Most would prefer to see those souls slaughtered without mercy and hunted to extinction than help them. And you're luring them in droves to the very heart of the city."

"Well, yes, but how would planting twelve illegal dragons eggs in my clinic prevent that?" Hermione frowned.

Charlie paused in the process of filling out the forms she'd fished out of her desk with all his registration information to lift his eyes to her.

"Hermione, anyone caught in illegal possession of Frostfang eggs can be sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss. Stealing the eggs is considered an act of terrorism because of the consequences to the entire continent. Without this permit I'm filling out, if you'd been raided by the Ministry, they'd have closed you down, raked through every record you've got, pinned everything they could on you and sent you off to Azkaban pending trial before you'd have been found guilty, no matter that this was a setup."

Hermione gulped.

"Oh," she said in a small voice, feeling stupid now for not being more aware of the identifying markers for each species of dragon, and for not being aware of the legal repercussions of such an instance as this. "I didn't know."

Charlie's mouth twisted and his eyes filled with sympathy, seeing how concerned she was when her hands began to shake.

"I know you didn't," he said. "But you told me, and we can get it sorted, yeah? You're alright,  _koroleva_ , come here."

He stepped around the desk in her office and pulled her into his arms, smoothing his hands up and down her back comfortingly.

"We'll get to the bottom of who gave them to you, alright? We'll get them returned to their proper nest in the morning, and we'll get Harry and his team to look into who might be targeting your foundation, alright?"

Hermione nodded.

"Gods, I almost cooked them," she muttered, horrified.

Charlie snorted.

"Almost," he nodded, his cheek resting against the top of her head as he held her. "Maybe you'd better look into getting your Dragonologist license,  _koroleva_. It was an easy mistake to make, but it's no secret that this neck of the woods could use a few more people interested in dragons and in the know on how to handle them, yeah? Especially if you're already in the magical creature business. There are a stack of registrations and licenses you can get to protect yourself legally in people keep dropping magical creatures in your lap."

"I've got a fair few of them," Hermione told him. "I just didn't look into the more exotic creatures like dragons or the others not native to Britain – manticores and the like – because I didn't think I'd ever have cause to need them."

"Suggesting that whoever is behind this  _knew_  you didn't have a license to keep dragons on the premises."

"But I do have a license for that," Hermione said. "I had to get a permit to have the incubator installed."

"Probably a breeders' permit for local species only. Believe me, you've got to be very well qualified to certify having species like the Frostfangs or Razorscales or even the Fireballs in your possession. The circumstances of your application and your request for the incubator would've been processed based on your registration as a local veterinary clinic. They've have allowed it probably only because of who you are, if I'm being honest, love. If you weren't Hermione Granger, even with the magizoologist qualifications for treating magical creatures, you'd have been denied on one of these incubators."

"Kingsley did have to sign off on letting me have it," Hermione nodded slowly. "He called me into his office and made it very official and warned me that even though he knew I wanted it to help the creatures, I would be under scrutiny pertaining to it's use. A chap comes by once a month to inspect the incubator and ascertain if it's been used, and what for."

"Yeah, regulations surrounding dragons are pretty tight, these days," Charlie said, releasing her and holding her at arms-length, his hands resting on the tops of her shoulders as he peered into her face.

"In no small part thanks to you," Hermione said. "To get my permit, I had to sit an exam and the statutes decreeing breeding sanctions frequently cited your name as one of the researchers behind it all."

Charlie's ears turned red as he chuckled. "Yeah, well. I remember how badly I wanted a dragon as a kid," he said. "Even got my hands on a dragon egg from a backyard breeder when I was fifteen… it didn't end so well."

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"No?" she asked.

Charlie laughed, stepping back and rubbing the back on his neck.

"You know that section of the Burrow where my bedroom is and the surrounding areas?" he asked. "How they look newer than the rest?"

Hermione nodded, an amused smile pulling at the corners of her mouth despite the threat of being set up for illegal dragon possession. It was hard not to smile when Charlie was looking so sheepish right in that moment.

"I got hold of my egg in Hogsmeade right before getting on the train home," he told her. "I squirrelled it away in my trunk until I got home, and one night after everyone had gone to bed, I snuck downstairs and hatched it. I was hand rearing that little drake in my bedroom all summer – it wasn't too hard. He was an African Chura dragon. Not too big, not real bright, and prone to sleeping most of the time. It was pretty easy to hide him from Mum, most of the time, and I already had so many pets and creatures living in my room that she didn't bat an eye at the extra meat for feeding him."

He laughed, and Hermione shook her head, her smile wide.

"What happened?" she asked.

"He sneezed one afternoon when Mum was doing the dusting," Charlie admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "Nearly burned the whole house down, the bugger. Blew the wall out of my room with the explosion of it and damaged the rest of the rooms surrounding mine. Bill almost lost a leg when his room – which was the one above mine, back then – suddenly lost it's floor and he came plummeting down into the wreckage with old Borris."

"Borris?" Hermione laughed.

"He had to have a name, Hermione," Charlie said, like it was ludicrous to imagine otherwise. "Anyway, as you can imagine, Mum went ballistic. Me and Bill spent the rest of the summer sleeping on the floor in the living room while the repairs were done. Even Dad was right cross with me. Insisted that I had to be the one who fixed up the house. That's why it's a hodge-podge of woodwork, and a bit on the piss. I had no idea what I was doing, but once I got the hang of it, they couldn't stop me. Before that incident, Ron, Fred, George and Ginny were all squeeze into one bedroom on matching bunk-beds because Mum and Dad went into it planning on four kids, rather than seven and they just didn't have the space, the time, or the money to expand."

"You built those new sections?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Yep," Charlie grinned. "Poor old Borris was shipped off to a colony in Africa to be with his own kind and I  _might_  have been called on by a specialist in the field who sat me down and explained the dangers of what I'd been doing, keeping him in my bedroom like that. I already loved dragons, of course, but I did start to realize why not everyone should be allowed around them. After I graduated, I threw myself into the study to get all my permits and licenses, and then into learn everything I could about the beasts. Since then, I've been helping regulate the rest of the world to make sure idiot kids like me don't kill their family members with some backyard breeding experiment."

Hermione smiled.

"You've done a good job of it, even if someone is now trying to use that research and the laws it's sparked to close me down," she sighed, shaking her head. "What do we need to do with these eggs?"

Charlie patted her shoulder reassuring.

"For tonight, nothing more. They need to be kept in this chamber until morning, at the very least, to make sure they won't die in transit. The temperature you had them at might very well have killed them if they'd been exposed to it much longer. These guys thrive in the cold. When it's time for them to hatch, their parents rip apart their nest on the cliffsides and send them all rolling down into the freezing artic seas below. They sink and the cold pushes the babies into hatching – the rolling and the fall helps to crack the eggs open, too. Those that surface, go on to join the colony. Those that don't…"

Charlie shrugged his shoulders and it couldn't clearer to her that he had accepted the laws of nature when it came to survival of the fittest.

"I'm so sorry I almost cooked them," Hermione apologized again.

"You didn't know, love. Don't worry about it," Charlie said. "I'll make a Floo call when we get back to the Burrow to let my contact who minds the colony know that we've got the eggs, and that we'll bring them home to him tomorrow, once they're cool enough."

"Won't he be asleep by now? It's almost midnight, Charlie."

Charlie chuckled.

"With a pair of rampaging Frostfangs on the loose in his colony and causing this blizzard? Not a chance, love. And anyway, he's getting on a bit, so he doesn't sleep as much as he used to. We'll get the last of this paperwork in order for you, so that when the Ministry chap comes by and sees what's been going on with your incubator, you'll be covered; and we'll have the eggs out of here before we've got to worry about them poking their noses in."

"Won't you be in trouble if your name is on all these documents?" Hermione asked.

Charlie shook his head.

"Nah. I'm fully licensed. They can't touch me. And it might be that my Frostfang minding friend has been attempting to woo me into taking over from him minding the colony here in Britain for a while now. He'll go on record to keep the dragons safe and keep the heat off you."

"He doesn't even know me," Hermione protested.

"He doesn't need to," Charlie chuckled. "He trusts me. And anyway, when I tell him what you're up to saving the magical creatures of our world, he's going to be very interested in meeting you."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, her curiosity piqued about this man that Charlie spoke of with such respect and her mind latching onto the idea that he might be able to take a position here in Britain and still keep his dragons even without approaching Kingsley about opening a reserve in British soil.

"Come on,  _koroleva_ ," he said when he was finished with all the papers and had neatly tucked away the quill he'd used once more.

He held his hand out to her, moving toward the stairs back up to her apartment above the clinic, waiting expectantly for her to take it.

"Do you want to use my Floo to call your friend, so we don't disturb the others at the Burrow?" Hermione offered, turning off the lights and taking his hand in the dark.

"Nah," Charlie said. "It won't go through from your place. He's very selective about which fireplaces he allows through to contact him, these days."

Hermione nodded.

"Grab anything you might've forgotten to stay overnight at the Burrow, yeah?" Charlie said. "You were planning on staying the night, right?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"Well… no, not really," Hermione admitted, looking up at him in confusion. "There's no room for me. Everyone has their spouse staying the night since the rest of your siblings are all loved up, so their rooms are all occupied, and Teddy and Victoire are in the guest room. Unless I camp on the floor in the living room, there's nowhere for me to sleep."

Charlie's lips twitched.

"You could bunk in with me," he offered quietly, and when she met his gaze, the heat in his eyes drenched her knickers all over again.

She gulped audibly.

"You… won't mind?" she asked.

"Mind having a beautiful witch curled up beside me in matching jammies and reading the book I got her into the wee small hours?" he chuckled. "You don't know me that well if you think that's something I'll object to,  _koroleva_."

Hermione bit her lip, her eyes searching his face and it occurred to her that this might be the perfect moment to make a move. Sliding her feet a little closer until she was well inside his personal space, Hermione tipped her head up, holding his gaze and wondering if he wanted her as much as she wanted him right in that moment.

"If you keep looking at me like that, Hermione Granger," Charlie said, his voice going low and husky as he brought his hand up to smooth his calloused palm over her cheek affectionately. "You might not get much reading done, and might not stay in those jammies, after all."

Hermione licked her lips, her heart racing inside her chest.

"I prefer to sleep naked with company, anyway," she confessed softly, and Charlie's answering grin was pure wickedness before he leaned down and claimed her lips hungrily.


	4. Chapter 4

Her kissed her hard, his hands sliding into her hair and his body pressing flush against hers. Hermione thought she might explode with pure happiness. Kissing him back hungrily, she reached for him, curling her arms around his neck and pulling herself as close as she could given that they were both still clad in their heavy winter attire despite not having travelled outdoors. Charlie's tongue swept against the seam of her lips and she parted them for him greedily, only too eager to draw him closer still.

He tasted of the cocktails they both been drinking before leaving the Burrow and his body was so warm; so firm and so strong and so utterly male that Hermione feared she might actually swoon. He walked her backward across her flat until her back hit the benchtop in her dingy kitchen before he lifted her until she sat upon it, all without breaking their fervent snog. Merlin, it felt like she'd waited a lifetime for that kiss and Hermione pulled him closer, curling her legs around him and clutching him desperately.

They were both breathing hard when they broke the kiss and Hermione was thinking that it looked like Christmas was going to be extra good to her this year. Gods, it'd been too long since she'd shared her body with a man as she whiled away months and years pining for Charlie, and now here he was, hungrily devouring her lips. His tongue traced against her own expertly, making her dizzy and making her want to find out just how talented that muscle might be when engaged with other parts of her anatomy.

"Gods, Charlie," Hermione gasped when they broke their fervent snog and he kissed the length of her jaw and down her neck, his hands deserting her hair to begin wrestling with the scarf wrapped around her throat, apparently desperate to get at her skin.

Charlie didn't say anything as he managed to unwind the scarf, and his fingers made short work of the bright silver toggles on her cloak, pushing that from her shoulders too. He kissed her neck and Hermione tipped her head, her heart racing inside her chest and her breath coming in sharp gasps. She would've been embarrassed at the low groan of pleasured delight that tore from her lips when he hit upon that sweet spot just below her ear, driving her crazy, but she was too delirious with happiness and desire to care.

How many nights had she daydreamed of finding herself in his arms this way? How many wicked fantasies had she indulged, thinking of him and bringing herself pleasure? Gods, how often had she wondered what his lips might taste like and what his rough hands would feel like cupping her breasts? She sincerely hoped all those fantasies were about to become a glorious reality.

"Gods, you taste even better than I dreamed," Charlie groaned, his lips by her ear as her fingers plucked at the toggles of his cloak, ridding him of it as she shoved it from his powerful shoulders, rather enjoying the way it slipped the length of his body to puddle messily about his feet.

"Don't stop," Hermione begged softly, pulling him down for another dizzying kiss when he pulled back a little bit.

He growled against her lips as he kissed her back, clutching her against himself, his hips bucking just a little against the junction of her thighs where she'd wrapped them around him. Hermione feared she was going to ruin her knickers, she wanted him so badly. The heat pouring off him and the desire raging through her would surely send them up in flames. He kissed her until Hermione couldn't think straight; couldn't see straight; couldn't breathe.

"Fuck," Charlie groaned when he pulled back, breathing hard and laying his forehead against her. "You have no idea how badly I want to fuck you right here on this bloody bench,  _koroleva_."

"So, do it," Hermione encouraged, rolling her hips a little and carding her fingers through his thick red hair.

"Mmm," Charlie groaned. "Shit, I need to Floo call Newt about those dragons, or I'm going to forget."

"You could call him after," Hermione bargained.

Charlie's laugh was low and wicked.

"You imagine either of us will be able to walk, after?" Charlie asked, his voice husky and his eyes glittering with heat that made Hermione quiver with anticipation.

"But you said you have to call him from the Floo at the Burrow," she said. "Which means we'd be in your mother's house. Where two adorable children are liable to be up at the crack of dawn, potentially bursting into their favourite uncle's bedroom."

"We can get dressed again after," Charlie rolled his eyes.

Hermione laughed.

"We could… though I expect that your mother might have kittens if she finds me in your bed."

"When the woman's been nagging me about finding myself a witch for years? Not bloody likely," Charlie laughed.

He leaned in and kissed her again before Hermione could clarify if this was his way of asking her to be his witch, and she was sure she melted into a big, quivering pile of delight right there in his arms.

"Bloody hell," he said when they broke apart after several minutes of gloriousness. "Come on. The sooner I make my call, the sooner I can have you."

He scooped his arms around her tightly and Hermione squeaked in surprise when he curled his hands under her bum, holding her in place against him with her legs still wrapped around him even as he strode across the room to the Floo. He kissed her again on the way, breaking openly to grab a look at the jar of Floo Powder mounted in a repurposed flower-pot against the brickwork. He didn't put her down even when he stepped into the flames, calling out for the Burrow before snogging her again as they began to spin.

Her protests about unsafe travel practices were swallowed and promptly forgotten when the spinning and dizzying effect of Floo travel coupled with the rioting butterflies in her stomach thanks to the taste of his lips and the feels of him against her. It didn't even occur to her that they'd forgotten to grab any of her overnight supplies before leaving until the fireplace spat them out on the floor of the living room, the wild ride having partially dislodged her from around Charlie, her legs unfurling. It was just as well they did, because the effect of the two of them travelling together in such a way made exiting the fireplace an ordeal and a half, Charlie skidding across the floor on his back with Hermione still clutched in his arms.

He laughed when they skidded all the way across the floor and collided with the Christmas tree, almost toppling it over.

"Bloody hell, that was fun," he grinned into her face.

Hermione wasn't so sure she agreed with him, her stomach roiling violently.

"For you, maybe," she muttered. "I think I might be sick."

Charlie winced.

"It was a bit wild," he allowed, releasing her when she rolled off of him quickly and sat up, trying to take deep, even breaths to calm her stomach.

"I think I need a glass of water," she confessed.

Charlie nodded.

"No worries,  _koroleva_ , I need to call Newt, anyway," he said.

"Do want anything?" she asked, rising to her feet.

"Mmm," Charlie grinned, peering up at her as she tried to right her clothing and dust off the soot from their travels. "You. Naked. In my bed in about fifteen minutes."

Hermione blushed.

"I'll make you a cup of tea," she told him before hurrying out of the room, not about to ruin her first intimate moment with the man by confessing that such a wildly spinning Floo-trip combined with the effects of the Bloody Firestorm cocktail he'd given her were actually making her fear she might vomit.

Charlie laughed at her response before dusting himself off and sitting up, crawling over to the fireplace and reaching for the Floo Powder to make his call.

"Newt?" he called out loudly, kneeling with his head in the fireplace.

The kitchen of Mr and Mrs Scamander was illuminated only by the glow of an enormous Christmas tree in the far corner and the fireplace itself.

"NEWT? You there?"

Charlie peered around, hoping for a response. He spied the family owl perched on a specially carved piece of wood by the window.

"Archibald, is Newt home?" Charlie asked of the owl.

Archibald blinked owlishly at him before hooting loudly.

"Bloody hell," Charlie grumbled. "I don't want to come through and drag you out of bed, old man."

Before he could do as he'd just suggested, Tina Scamander hurried into the kitchen tying the sash on her nightgown and blinking sleepily.

"Hello?" she called, frowning and looking about the kitchen.

"Over here, Mrs Scamander," Charlie said, grinning. "In the fireplace. It's Charlie Weasley."

Tina turned in a circle before spotting him.

"Oh, Charlie, is everything alright?" she asked.

She made no mention of the late hour, or the fact that he'd clearly pulled her out of bed.

"Is Newt around?" Charlie asked. "I'm sorry it's so late, but I've got some vital information for him."

"He's trying to calm the Frostfangs," Tina sighed. "This blizzard, as you might've realized, is hardly natural."

"No, I know. That's why I'm calling. He's missing about a dozen Frostfang eggs, I'd reckon?" Charlie said.

"How do you know?" Tina asked, frowning at him.

"Because they turned up in London. A shady chap ambushed a friend of mine, Hermione Granger, at her clinic for magical creatures late last night and dumped a crate of twelve Frostfangs eggs into her care. She mistook them for Shortsnout eggs, because of the colouring… but she got them into a DEI to incubate before bringing them to my attention when I came home tonight."

"Oh, goodness," Tin said, clutching her chest. "They're not cooked, are they? We'll never stop the blizzard if they are."

"Not yet," Charlie said. "I got to them today, and got the temperature down below freezing as soon as I saw them. They're still there, but they should be ready for transport by morning."

"Tina, what is it, darling?" Newt came bustling into the room at that moment, the door blasting open into the kitchen and almost disconnecting Charlie's Floo call when the blast of cold air almost put the fire out.

"Charlie Weasley found your missing eggs," Tina told her husband without preamble.

"Charlie?" Newt asked, spinning to peer at him in the fireplace, still spry for a man who'd celebrated his one-hundred-and-ninth birthday that year. "That you?"

"Howdy, Newt," Charlie said, grinning at his mentor and the man who'd made his career possible. "I've got your missing eggs."

"How?" Newt asked, shaking his head.

"You heard of Hermione Granger?" Charlie asked him.

Newt's eyes lit up.

"That lovely young lass who opened a Foundation to help magical creatures in London?" Newt asked, and Charlie wasn't surprised to know he'd heard of Hermione.

"That's the one. Someone showed up at the door to her clinic late last night with a crate full of twelve Frostfang eggs."

"What on earth for?" Newt frowned.

"I reckon it was someone trying to get her closed down if the Ministry had busted her with them. She's got a breeder's permit and a DEI in the clinic, special delivery courtesy of the Minister being a personal friend," Charlie said.

"But not the qualifications or permits for Frostfang eggs. And someone is trying to close her doors by having her caught with them because those bastards in London can't stand having vampires and werewolves and goblins frequenting her foundation for all those lovely things she provides," Newt finished for him.

Charlie nodded.

"That's right. She mentioned to me tonight when I came home from the Romanian reserve that she'd been given them. She mistook them for Shortsnout eggs," Charlie said, and he watched Newt close his eyes for a long moment in apparent horror as though bracing himself to be told the eggs had been cooked.

"They're fine, dear," Tina told him, putting a hand on his arm.

"It's true," Charlie said. "She'd set the DEI to the average temperature that would've worked on a Shortsnout egg, but not quite high enough to cook them. They've been exposed for roughly twenty-four hours, but as soon as I recognized them, I lowered it to sub-zero temperatures. They're still there now, but they'll need the rest of the night to chill before we can safely transport them to you."

"Thank Merlin," Newt said, lowering his gaze to the floor for a moment.

"I know tomorrow's Christmas and all," Charlie went on, "But if you don't mind, we'll bring them by around mid-morning? Get them back in their nest before their parents send us spiraling into the next Ice Age."

Newt nodded.

"You know you're always welcome here," he said to Charlie. "And it'll be good practice for you to meet the colony again. You'll win a few points with the Fangs by bringing those eggs home, too."

Charlie grinned.

"Bring this Hermione, won't you, Charlie?" Tina asked, smiling a little from behind Newt.

"Oh, please do," Newt nodded. "I'd very much like to meet her. If she's free, that is."

"I'll bring her along," Charlie smiled widely.

Newt eyed him for a long moment, and Charlie wondered if the old man could see right through him to the heart of the matter with Hermione.

"Perhaps it will be good to introduce Miss Granger to the Frostfangs, too," he mused, grinning a little. "And we'd better just see about getting her polished up on her dragonology so she doesn't accidentally cook any of those eggs again."

"Yes, sir," Charlie said, unable to hide his amused and pleased grin.

"Good," Newt said. "See you tomorrow then, son."

Charlie nodded.

'See you then," he said. "And I'm sorry for waking you, Mrs Scamander."

Tina waved off his apology with a laugh, used to being woken in the middle of the night for creature related instances after decades of marriage to a man who'd done so much to improve the way the wizarding world viewed its fantastic beasts.

Pulling his head out of the fireplace, Charlie coughed the soot from his throat before getting to his feet. He peered around the living room, looking for Hermione and his eyebrows rose when instead, he spotted his Dad standing with his shoulder propped against the doorway leading to the stairs.

"Did I wake you, Dad?" Charlie asked, frowning apologetically, supposing that the roar of the Floo as they'd left and returned had awoken Arthur Weasley.

"I wasn't asleep yet before you left," Arthur confessed quietly. "Everything alright, Charlie? I thought the roar was just Hermione heading home for the night, but the second one made me worry."

"Everything's fine, Dad," Charlie reassured him. "Just a bit of a situation at Hermione's clinic. Dragons…"

"So I heard," Arthur nodded. "You'll be stepping out briefly before lunch tomorrow, then?"

Charlie nodded.

"Yeah, sorry about that, Dad. I know Mum's wanting to make a real day of it, but we've got to get the Frostfang eggs back to their nest before anything too drastic happens," he explained, worried his Dad might be upset with him.

Arthur waved away the apology.

"Better we miss you for an hour than be plunged into an Ice Age, I know," Arthur chuckled, pushing away from the door and strolling further into the room.

Charlie watched the way he went over to the couch where he and Hermione had left her book and their matching pyjamas. Arthur raised his eyebrows at Charlie in question and Charlie shrugged.

"Icelandic Christmas tradition I thought she'd like," Charlie offered quietly, his eyes growing warm as he tried to avoid the look on his father's face.

"A nice one, I take it. The matching outfits are just the ticket," Arthur chuckled, teasing him good naturedly.

"Yeah, well, that wasn't on purpose," Charlie admitted. "When I was getting her a pair, I noticed I also needed some and these were the only type they had. I might've… accidentally caught the fire in the last pair Mum gave me last Christmas."

Arthur frowned at him.

"Don't tell you mother that," Arthur said, shaking his head. "She worries for you terribly when you're away."

Charlie sighed, nodding and peering over his shoulder toward the kitchen, wondering where Hermione had gotten to.

"How've you been anyway, Dad?" Charlie asked, seeing no sign of the witch he'd intended to ravish following his Floo-Call.

"Fine," Arthur nodded. "Fine. Busy at work. Head of the Department now, you know? And it's got its own challenges. Far fewer chances to pilfer muggle artefacts and smuggle them into my shed where your mother won't see them."

Charlie grinned.

"They're not working you too hard, I hope?" he asked, frowning.

"I'm alright," Arthur assured him. "And you, son? How're things in Romania?"

"Busy," Charlie admitted, crossing to drop into one of the armchairs by the fire. "Always bloody busy, Dad. Too many dragons and not enough Tamers to keep them from getting into mischief, you know?"

Arthur nodded, and Charlie could tell from the way his father was looking at him that he wanted to say more – wanted to ask about his plans for the future and how he proposed to ever walk away from a job that was already short-staffed.

"We've missed you, son," Arthur said quietly, and Charlie nodded, gritting his teeth against any emotion.

"Missed you too, Dad," he said gruffly.

He knew that his Dad wouldn't say any more on the subject, no matter that he likely wanted Charlie home and settled with a good witch just as badly as Molly did.

"Did Hermione come back with you?" Arthur asked, tipping his head in the direction of the kitchen when the brief, shrill shout of the kettle boiling sounded.

"Yeah," Charlie nodded, his ears turning red again. "Easier than her heading home and having to come back in the morning, eh?"

Arthur nodded.

"I've been meaning to get around to installing a few more rooms into this old house," he said fondly, looking around. "Going to need the space, soon. Bill's got another little one on the way. And it'll be a matter of time before Ginny and Harry are married and start thinking of children. Harry already wants them, from what I can see of how he is with Teddy. The twins, too… they're leaning toward children in a few years, now that the franchise is stable and they're both settling into their marriages. Soon we'll need all the rooms we can get to house the many grandchildren I hope will be popping out of this house at the seams."

Charlie nodded, closing his eyes briefly at the ache in his chest to bring his Dad the grandchildren that Charlie knew Arthur desperately wanted.

"I wouldn't be surprised if Percy and Oliver start looking into adoption, myself," Hermione mused, strolling into the room levitating three cups of tea. "Soon you'll have a house full of children and you won't know what to do with yourself, Mr Weasley. You'll have to escape to your shed more and more often just to get a moment's peace, if Molly has her way."

Arthur laughed quietly.

"Peace is overrated," he informed the two of them as Hermione handed him his tea before crossing the room to give Charlie's his. "I raised seven boisterous children, you know? This old house is so… empty… without all of you home, anymore."

Hermione's heart constricted inside her chest and she squeezed Charlie's shoulder when she caught his agonized expression to see his Dad looking so forlorn.

"They never tell you that part," Arthur went on quietly. "They all warn that too-soon, they'll be grown, and to enjoy the little moments while they're young, and all of that. But no one tells you about the silence when the brood has flown the coop and their rooms are all left empty. Retire, they say. Enjoy the freedom those little blighters robbed you of for so many years when you put their happiness before your own. But they never mention that there is no freedom in loneliness. When you dedicate your life to raising brilliant children that go on to have outstanding careers, flinging them across the globe, they never mention that when they're gone, you're left with holes they used to occupy and nothing to fill them up with."

Charlie darted a look at Hermione when he heard her sniffle as she perched on the arm of his chair, sipping her tea. Her eyes were suspiciously wet as she watched Arthur speak, and Charlie supposed that, having wiped her parents' memories as she had, she felt even guiltier listening to such a speech.

"Won't be long, Dad," Charlie said quietly, though he didn't specify whether he spoke of the grandchildren he already had on the way, or of himself and his contribution to the growing brood of kids that would soon fill this house, once more.

Arthur nodded, smiling stiffly when he realized he'd lapsed into melancholy.

"Well, better get back to bed, eh?" he said, taking a few large gulps of his tea before rising to his feet. "Before your Mum comes looking for me and can start pestering you again."

Charlie nodded.

"Night, Dad," he said, frowning after the man as he headed for the stairs once more.

"Goodnight," he bid them, smiling at the two of them where they perched on the same armchair.

Hermione smiled, waving him off, and she and Charlie sat in silence, listening to the sounds of Arthur climbing the stairs until the bedroom door creaked closed.

"Well…" Charlie said after a long pause, tipping his head to look at Hermione seriously. "That got heavy."

Hermione laughed a little, nodding her head and wiping her eyes.

"Come on,  _koroleva_ ," Charlie said, smiling at her a little. "Let's get to bed. It'll be an early start with Teddy and Victoire in the house."

Hermione nodded, sighing as she got to her feet.

"Better take these, love," Charlie said, picking up her pyjamas and book from the couch. "Now that the old man has effectively killed the mood with his somber bollocks, you'll probably need them to keep warm. Where did you disappear to, anyway?"

Hermione's heart sank a little.

"The bathroom," she confessed. "Your Bloody Firestorm got the best of me after that wild spinning. Fortunately, I keep a spare toothbrush here."

Charlie chuckled as he collected his trunk and began flicking his wand to douse the remaining lights in the kitchen and the living room, leaving only the glow of the fire and the twinkling Christmas light on the tree to light the way.

"Yeah, that drink will wreck most people," he nodded. "Took me a while to get used to it, but they're bloody good."

Hermione laughed, following him when he began the long climb up to his bedroom - which was actually the repurposed attic thanks to Ron taking over Charlie's room when he'd moved out. She shivered the higher they climbed, the heat of the fireplace far below doing little to warm the draughty attic.

"I hope you don't mind cuddling," she said quietly when they reached his room and she'd closed the door behind them.

"Bit cold, eh?" Charlie grinned, dumping his trunk at the end of the bed and beginning to peel off layers of clothing, intent on getting into his pyjamas.

"Just a little," Hermione confessed, shivering a bit herself and hesitating, wondering if she ought to ask him to turn his back so she could change.

It was one thing to let him see her naked should they shag, but another thing entirely to strip just for the sake of changing clothes.

"You alright?" he asked when she eventually decided to hell with her modesty and began wriggling out of her jeans.

Hermione looked over and gasped when she spotted the fact that Charlie had stripped down to just his jeans.

"Gods, Charlie, you're covered in bandages!" Hermione said, her eyes wide as she stared at him, noting the thick wrapping of bandages around his right ankle and his entire torso. "Merlin, did I hurt you when I had my legs around you? What've you done?"

Charlie glanced down at himself, seeming almost surprised by the sight of the bandaging.

"Ah, I'm fine," he waved his hand dismissively. "Told you earlier that old Krampus tried to take a few bites out of me."

"You were bitten?" Hermione gasped. "Charlie, those fangs could've gone right through you!"

He grinned at her.

"I'm alright, Hermione," he promised. "I've had worse, I can assure you."

"That doesn't make me feel better," Hermione said, planting her hands on her hips and stomping her foot.

She scowled at him, oblivious to having changed into her flannel pants but only gotten halfway through changing her top.

"You're sweet to worry about me,  _koroleva_ ," Charlie said, though his eyes were tracing over her bare upper half.

Hermione gasped, realizing she'd taken her bra off and not put her shirt back on. Clapping her hands over her breasts, she scowled at him all the more.

"Did I hurt you?" she asked seriously.

"Nah," he said. "I'm fine. Probably don't even need the bandages anymore."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him.

"What?" he said. "You want me to prove it? I'll strip it all off if you will, love."

He shot her a look so hot she almost swooned, but Hermione wasn't fooled. Stomping closer and deciding that she really wouldn't mind if it was Charlie's hands on her breasts rather than her own, she invaded his personal space until she could reach his bandages. Carefully, she began to unwind them from around him, untying the knot at his collarbone and unravelling him quickly.

He had a collection of puncture wounds over his abs and his right shoulder, Hermione noted, frowning, though they were pink with freshly healed scars, rather than still bloody.

"Might have to leave the one on my leg for a bit longer," he confessed when Hermione traced her fingers over the wounds with an expert's eye.

"You're sure I didn't hurt you when you were carrying me around?" she asked worriedly.

"I was somewhat distracted at the time," Charlie grinned down at her.

She held perfectly still when he reached with both hands to cup her cheeks, peering his desire at her resolutely.

"I'm fine," he said. "I promise. Are you?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Hermione asked.

"The drink made you sick," he reminded her.

"It did, but it's kind of a mood killer to keep bringing it up," she pointed out.

Charlie laughed, lowering his face slowly toward hers.

"You brushed your teeth, yeah?" he teased, and Hermione smacked her palm against his bare chest, connecting with one of his many dragon tattoos.

"Yes," she rolled her eyes. "And flossed. And rinsed with mouthwash."

"Clean-freak," Charlie accused, rolling his eyes before he closed the distance between their lips, stealing another hot kiss from her.

Hermione suspected that she was in well over her head to know that even knowing she'd been unwell, he wanted to kiss her. Even knowing he'd been hurt, he wanted to kiss her. And based on the lead pipe prodding her insistently from the confines of his jeans, Charlie Weasley wanted to do a whole lot more than kiss her.


	5. Five

Her hands slid over his lithe torso greedily as Charlie kissed her maddeningly, gliding over warm flesh and to the buckle on his belt. It jingled as she undid it, and the rasp of his zipper made her quiver with anticipation. Or maybe that was the rough and calloused hands he slid from cupping her face, down her neck and over her chest to cup her breasts.

Without thinking, Hermione arched into the touch, desperate for more. Charlie gave it; a low whine tore from Hermione's throat as he broke their kiss with a rough squeeze of her breasts before he pinched both of her nipples between each thumb and forefinger. The sexual tension between them fizzed wildly like the desire bubbling in her blood and Hermione hissed as Charlie lowered his mouth to kiss her neck. He growled in the back of his throat when she began working his jeans carefully down his legs, mindful that he was hurt when she spied the top of the bandage wrapped around his thigh.

Unable to resist, she leaned into him, kissing and licking her way over his chest and down his abs as she peeled his jeans from his legs.

"Blimey, Hermione," Charlie growled when she knelt on the ground before him and looked up at him from beneath long lashes.

Sultrily, she licked her lips as she stripped him of his boxers. Charlie's eyes glittered with desire, their vibrant blue mesmerizing her like the colour at the heart of a flame. Biting her lip, Hermione trailed her eyes lower, focusing on the jutting appendage before her and unable to hold back her little huff of delight when she saw just what she had to work with.

Smoothing her hands along the length of his abs and delighting in the ridges of hard muscle there, Hermione trailed her fingers through the thatch of red curls nestled around the prettiest cock she was sure she'd ever seen. Charlie drew in a sharp breath when she curled both hands around the silken steel length of him, carefully learning his length and girth, stroking him surely. Charlie never took his eyes off her, watching her every move as she took her time tormenting him.

Licking her lips once more, she gave him no other warning before leaning forward and engulfing the head of his cock in her all too willing mouth.

"Fuck!" she heard Charlie curse in a desperate whisper and when she tipped her head up, she found he'd dropped his back.

His hands came up to tangle into her curls, cradling her head as she swirled her tongue around the head of his cock, bobbing her head slowly up and down, taking a little more of him each time. She moved her hands in tandem with her mouth, closing her eyes and focusing solely on the task she'd imagined performing thousands of times in her dizziest daydreams. The low groan she tore from him as she made love to him with her mouth was enough to leave her wet and needy, and Hermione only hoped he'd be willing to repay the favor.

"Ah, fuck,  _koroleva!_ " Charlie groaned after several minutes his hands tightening in her hair as he stepped back out of her reach. She uttered a sound of protest, trying to follow him, but Charlie didn't let her.

"Enough of that, or the evening will come to an abrupt end," he confessed with a laugh. "Come up here, love."

He slid his hands under her arms, lifting her back onto her feet with ease before he kissed her hard, his lips bruising against her own, his tongue sweeping hungrily into her mouth. Hermione kissed him back, delirious with need as he flicked her pyjama pants and her knickers from her hips, sending them skidding down her legs before walking her backward until she collided with the bed. Rather than letting her topple onto it, Charlie surprised her when he scooped her up, his hands gripping her arse. Before she could wrap her legs around him, he tossed her down onto the middle of the bed and she squeaked in surprise when she landed in the middle, peering up at him hungrily.

"Stay there," he commanded when she made to reach for him once more, holding a finger up to make her wait.

"Charlie," Hermione said, narrowing her eyes one him.

He shot her a wink before ferreting around in the pocket of his discarded jeans. First, he locked the door securely, ensuring that no interlopers would be able to access the room before they were good and ready to come out. Next, he flicked several silencing charms about the place to make certain they wouldn't wake the rest of the house.

"Don't make me wait, Charlie," Hermione warned, arranging herself on the bed in what she hoped was a seductive pose.

"One more thing, love," he laughed, and she frowned when he began digging around in his trunk.

She was relieved when he unearthed a box of condoms, though surprised to see them since most wizards tended to rely on spells and potions instead when it came to contraception.

"You don't mind these, right?" he asked, holding up the box. "I'm allergic to the potion and I've forgotten the spell."

Hermione shook her head.

"Those are fine," she said.

"Good," Charlie grinned, carrying the box to the bed and tossing it down before chucking his wand down as well. "Then come here."

Hermione squealed in surprised when he seized hold of her ankles, dragging her by them until her bum was right at the edge of the bed. He knelt and before she could figure out his intentions or remind him about putting the condom on if he wanted it to be effective, he leaned in and dragged his tongue the full length of her pussy.

She died.

She was sure she died right there in that moment. Her back arching, Hermione clenched her hands in the sheets, a sharp gasp the only thing keeping her breathing when he began to devour her like he couldn't get enough. Her legs thrown over his shoulders, his arms curled around her protectively, caging her in and holding her in place he ate her out like a starving man at a feast. The feel of his tongue licking and licking and licking was enough to drive her mad, and the scrape of his stubble over her sensitive flesh had her crying out. She tossed her head back and forth on the bed, her thighs attempting to snap closed around his head in a vain attempt to fend off the onslaught.

Charlie only laughed, his breath tickling her skin and making her crazy.

"Gods, Charlie," Hermione gasped, lifting her head as he dove his tongue inside her, tasting her, tormenting her, driving her wild.

He watched her over the rim of her pubic bone, his blue eyes gleaming with a lust so possessive, she quivered. Her stomach was in knots and Hermione began to think there might be no going back from this. He looked at her like he owned her, and any protests to that fact would be fucked right out of her. When he latched onto her clit and sucked hard, Hermione screamed.

She didn't mean to, but the soft shriek he tore from her rent the air and she arched, her whole body engulfed as the firestorm he'd unleashed upon her reached it's raging climax. He groaned when she knotted her fingers in his hair as she orgasmed, her heart pounding out and uneven beat and her pussy clenching needily. Charlie licked her all the way through it, lapping at her flesh like he couldn't get enough of her.

"Gods, Charlie," Hermione whispered, her body going lax. "I need you. I need you, now."

Charlie's laugh was wicked as he gave her one final, affectionate lick before releasing her. He waved her up the bed as he rose to his full height before snatching up the box on condoms and fishing one out. Hermione wriggled to the middle of the bed and watched him roll the latex over his impressive cock before he fixed her look at had her insides clenching.

"You sure about this?" he asked, kneeling on the bed between her spread legs and looking at her seriously for a long moment.

"God, yes," Hermione confessed, and Charlie laughed at her response.

"Thank bloody Merlin for that," he muttered before lifting both of her legs until they were hooked over his shoulders once more and getting comfortable between them.

Hermione squirmed, her breath coming in little gasps, the anticipation killing her. Charlie was grinning evilly at her as he aligned their bodies and Hermione narrowed her eyes at him.

"What?" she asked when he paused before claiming her.

He shook his head, grinning and chuckling a little.

"What?" she said again, poking his shoulder and scowling at him.

"Nothing,  _koroleva_ ," he muttered, leaning down and brushing his lips softly against her. " _Nothing at all!_ "

Hermione gasped when he accompanied that final sentence with a long deep thrust, driving into her high and hard and with such force that she scooted up the bed a little. He claimed her lips for another dizzying kiss while her body fluttered and clenched in shock at suddenly having his cock seated so deeply inside it. Charlie kissed her hard, nipping her lip and tangling his tongue with hers while he waited for her to grow accustomed to the feel of him inside her.

She clung to him, her nails digging into his arms and her heart fit to burst right out her chest it pounded so hard with happiness and lust. Curled as she was with her knees hooked over the tops of his shoulders, she would swear it felt like he was going to fuck a hole in her belly when he withdrew slowly before thrusting in hard again.

"Gods, Charlie," Hermione whispered, breaking their kiss when he did it again. "Don't tease!"

Charlie pulled back a little, meeting her gaze and raising one eyebrow.

"You want more?" he asked.

Hermione nodded.

"You want it harder?" he smirked. "Do you like to play rough, Hermione?"

Hermione bit her lip before she nodded shyly. Charlie's answering grin was pure sin.

"Thank fuck," he uttered before picking up the pace, driving into her hard and fast and rough enough to send her slowly scooting up the bed toward the headboard.

The old metal frame began to creak softly as he drilled into her again and again and again, and Hermione could only cling on for the wild ride, the tension coiling through her body and rushing over her senses like wildfire. Charlie was relentless, their bodies slapping together with each thrust. When he began grinding in deeper on the inward thrust, Hermione groaned, her head tossing from side to side. Every time he impaled her, she was sure she was going to die, and every time he pulled back, she wanted to beg him to return.

Over and over, he slammed into her, his breath coming faster, his hands coming up to grip her hips and pin her to the bed beneath him.

"Fuck," Hermione whispered, her eyes going wide in panic when the building tension low in her abdomen began to spasm, the dam threatening to break, the waves threatening to consumer her, to pull her under and drown her in everything that was Charlie Weasley; everything she'd ever wanted.

Charlie opened his eyes to look at her when he heard her curse and his expression was completely feral. In that moment he looked like a wild animal who'd finally cornered his prey. He looked like the hungry dragon just about to incinerate his victim; the cat who got the canary _and_  the cream. He looked like a hungry wolf ready to devour her and he looked like he loved every fucking minute of it. Hermione could see from the gleam in his eyes and the wicked slant of his mouth that he wanted to break her. He wanted to shatter her into a billion little pieces. He wanted to hear her scream; to bring her undone; to grow as wild and as feral as him.

And she would.

She could feel it building up inside of her. The scream. The need for what bordered of violence. The desperate craving for release. When she reached for him and knotted her hands in his red hair, pulling it hard enough to sting, Charlie pulled his lips back from his teeth like an angry dragon showing off his lethal fangs. He leaned into her then and he wasn't gentle as he kissed her neck, suckling the flesh hard enough to leave marks before biting her unforgivingly.

The sting of the pain pushed her over the edge and the scream that tore from her throat stung as much as it felt good. Her pussy clamped down on him and magic crackled through her curls and raced down her arms, dancing over her fingers in his hair and making it stand on end. Charlie growled out a feral sound that raised the hair on her arms, slamming into her harder and harder, bucking into her as he lost the fight to cling to his own self control amid the firestorm of her magic and her orgasmic release. When he nipped her again before groaning into the side of her neck, driving himself as deep as he could get and unleashing everything he had to give, Hermione felt it on a primal level that  _this_  was the one thing she'd been born to do.

Charlie collapsed on top of her, letting her legs slide from his shoulder to rest against the mattress, both of them breathing heavily and riding the high of such a powerful release.

"Fucking hell," Charlie muttered against her skin, panting and rolling to the left, fishing himself from within her to lay beside her, spent.

Hermione moaned in agreement, closing her eyes and trying to get her breath back. That had been better than her wildest daydreams and it took everything she had not to roll over and confess that she might be in love with him. She wanted to burrow into his warmth and lay curled into his protective embrace, but she didn't know if that would come across as too needy. The last thing she wanted to do was give him the impression that she was a tart, or that she was too hung up on him right out the gate like this.

She didn't want to scare him off, after all.

Biting her lip, Hermione turned her head to trace her eyes over the handsome Dragon Tamer who had so thoroughly rocked her world right off its foundations. Merlin, but he was a sight to behold.

"You're bleeding," she noted idly.

"Huh?" Charlie asked, jumping a little at the sound of her voice and Hermione suspected she'd thoroughly worn him out.

"I scratched you," she pointed out, rolling toward him and indicating to the shallow scratch mark she'd left on his arm where she'd dug her nails into him in the heat of the moment.

Charlie held it up above the two of them, investigating the mark inquisitively before he grinned.

"Hellcat," he accused.

Hermione laughed.

"Sorry," she apologized, though she wasn't feeling particularly sincere about it.

Charlie looked like he knew she didn't regret it in the slightest and Hermione was pleased to see that he didn't look that apologetic, either.

He opened his mouth, intent on saying something but before he could, a jet of flames suddenly emitted from Charlie's trunk on the floor and Hermione screamed.


End file.
